Primeval Series 7, Episode 1- Adaptive Radiation
by qjay
Summary: Two years after the ARC team saved time itself and disbanded, they'll reunite in the wake of disaster to face the consequences of their actions... including a reborn Helen Cutter.
1. Teaser

**Primeval 7.1** ("Adaptive Radiation")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since I wrote my sixth series, I have finally seen some of Primeval: New World. However, my series may contradict theirs, especially as regards the world's reaction to anomalies. (In my stories, they were public knowledge after Convergence.) I do try to fit the stories together as best I can otherwise, and I always keep continuity with the original series. Also, I'm not British. Please excuse any slang or terminology that would not be used in the UK.

Thanks for joining me for another series...

* * *

**Previously on Primeval: Series Six**

A woman watched a DVD on a computer monitor. The image of a young blonde appeared, giving the following testimony:

_"__My name is Abigail Sarah Maitland-Temple, and this is my report on the final mission of the ARC. _

_"__For six years, alongside my friends and my husband Connor, I worked to protect the human race from anomalies, and from the prehistoric creatures that emerged from them, displaced in time. What I didn't know was, all that time, another group was studying the anomalies for their own reasons._

_"__The covert organisation we called Southfield wanted to use the anomalies to rewrite history, creating a perfect world with the best of all timelines. They were followers of Helen Cutter, who discovered the anomalies and then went mad. They were no less dangerous._

_"__The ARC team tried to stop them, which didn't go over very well. They killed Connor. They killed a lot of my friends. But they underestimated us. Before his death, Connor left me the technology to rewind time. He didn't want me to use it to save him, but I did. We did. We fought back._

_"__Our team leader, Matt Anderson, sacrificed himself to undo the damage Southfield had done. In the process, he seemed to have died, but it turned out he got trapped somewhere in the past. I watched as Southfield's main base was destroyed, along with the machine they used to manipulate history. We reset the entire timeline, bringing back Connor and the others._

_"__I thought Matt was gone forever. But at his funeral service, I learned there had been even worse consequences. My friend Jenny Lewis, who'd returned to the ARC to help us against Southfield, had changed back into Claudia Brown, an alternate-reality version of herself we thought had been lost long ago. Matt and I hadn't restored the original timeline at all. We'd just created a new one._

_"__I don't know what else is different. I don't know if we've made things better or worse. And worst of all... I have no idea if it's over."_

Abby's testimony ended, and a smiling woman named Helen Cutter removed the DVD from its player...

* * *

**Teaser**

"Ow! Ow! _Ow_!" cried Connor Temple, as his wife dragged him none-too-gently by the arm into the little chapel beside the cemetery where Matt Anderson's empty coffin had been buried. "Abby, what is it? What's the big mystery? I thought we were going!"

"We have to talk," said Abby.

The phrase itself was sort of funny to her; she'd resolved only a few minutes earlier that she would never, upon pain of death, reveal to her husband the truth about the other timeline. It had just been too terrible for him, for all of them, to burden anyone with that knowledge.

A lot could change in a few minutes, as she'd just learned. She hauled Connor to one of the pews, and waited for him to arrange himself there in his battered, threadbare suit that looked so absent-mindedly professorial on him. She still hadn't gotten used to seeing him... normal, safe and breathing, after the nightmare image of his death she'd witnessed in the alternate ARC. Now she had to relive all that... maybe she'd keep reliving it, for as long as the repercussions of her desperate mission with Matt happened to last. Maybe for the rest of her life. One problem at a time.

"Look, couldn't we talk in the car?" Connor said. "I was serious about Rex being in the boot. You know he gets sick when he's claustrophobic. I don't fancy cleaning that out of the car again..."

Abby leaned back against the nearest wall, felt her head connect with a solid_ thunk_. Tears burned at her eyes. She'd been stupid to think time would let itself be cheated so easily.

"We can't leave," she murmured, hating the words as she said them. "I know we were gonna go off and... leave all this behind, have a proper married life... but we can't. Not now. It's all gone wrong."

Connor frowned. "Look, I miss Matt, too. But we agreed it was best to follow through on our plan. Becker can handle the ARC; he'll probably be more efficient without a couple of undisciplined civilians hanging about!"

"It's not just Matt," she said. "It's everything. It's Southfield."

"Abby, you're not making sense. We beat Southfield!"

"No, we didn't!" Abby said. "They beat us! That future was awful... so Matt and I changed it. Becker helped. All of us- we cheated time."

Her husband needed a moment to absorb that, as well he might. He studied her with narrowed eyes, looked at the floor, looked up to the altar as though imploring the Almighty, then returned his gaze to Abby.

"You... changed history?"

Abby nodded. "Yeah. The whole world, apparently."

"But how could you? If there was one thing Cutter taught us, it was never to do that! Why would you just-"

"_Why do you think_?" Abby snapped, the tears streaming freely down her face.

Connor stared. He understood what she meant, though it also took its time sinking in. He intertwined his fingers in front of his face, his whole posture closed-off and withdrawn, shaken to the core.

"What happened?" he said finally.

Abby shook her head. "It... was bad, that's all. Don't tell me I shouldn't have done it. I really... I just... I had no choice. I didn't."

Connor stared at her, moved or dumbfounded. There was a quiet sort of awe in his voice when he said, "You risked the whole world for me?"

Abby looked away, embarrassed. "Wasn't much of a world... without you..."

The tears kept coming, not least because her choice of words made her even sadder. She was echoing something Connor had said to her- he'd risked the world on her behalf not long ago, when she and Emily Merchant had become trapped in the past thanks to her time device. Apparently, now, that had never happened. As best she could tell, Connor never invented that machine in the new timeline. He didn't even know what she was talking about. One of her most treasured memories, and it was just... gone. How much else had it taken with it?

"Does anyone know?" Connor said into her thoughts.

Abby took a deep breath and tried to think. "Danny. Danny Quinn knows. You'd invented some things along with the time machine... these little black cards. Temporal inhibitors, you called them. They were meant to protect the memory from changes to history. In the kind of fight we were in against Southfield, we couldn't risk them just... changing things without our knowing. I gave Danny one of the cards because I needed his help. He's got to clean up whatever is left of Southfield in this timeline, and he's got to do it quietly, so nobody knows."

"Danny," Connor repeated. "Well, that's all right. Anyone else?"

"Yeah, there's one other man." Abby shuddered. "We... had words. I wasn't very nice."

"How not nice?"

She exhaled slowly. "I... may have murdered him..."

"You...?" Connor couldn't even finished the sentence; he just stared at her in shock.

Abby knew the feeling, but she got defensive. "He was behind it all, Connor! Because of him, they killed you and Emily and Jess and Becker and Rex-"

"They killed _Rex_?"

"Yeah." Abby shook her head. "Their predators did, yeah."

Connor blinked a few times. "I'm surprised you let _any _of them live..."

It was an attempt at humour, and not a bad one. It was just the sort of silly Connor-joke that normally would have broken Abby's gloom, even in her darkest moments. That it didn't work probably said something about how very dark this moment was...

"I wasn't really killing him," Abby explained to Connor, as she'd already explained to herself a thousand times. "I knew he'd come back when the timeline changed. I gave him a card and shot him to send a message."

"We'd better hope he got it," Connor said.

"I know..."

"Because if he decides he wants a rematch, the whole thing could happen again-"

"I _know_!" Abby snapped. But the anger left her as quickly as it appeared. "What are we gonna do?"

Connor remained where he was for a moment; she could see the wheels turning in that brain of his, so big as to be quite awkward and useless most of the time. Then he stood and straightened his jacket. He approached Abby and held her until she stopped shaking. Then he stepped back.

"We're gonna go," he said. "We're gonna do just as we planned. Act like nothing's wrong."

"But you don't understand!" Abby said. "I have to undo it!"

"You can't." He shrugged. "Abby, it's too late. It's done. It's reality now. This world is stable. Few problems, nothing we can't handle. If you start meddling with reality again, after the trauma you've just described... anything could happen. It could get a lot worse."

Abby tossed up her hands. "What about Jenny? She's been turned back into Claudia!"

"Wait... _back_ into?"

"_Really_ long story," Abby said. "She was my good friend. I can't just leave her like this."

"But Claudia's your friend, too!" Connor said. "She's lovely! She was gonna be maid of honour at our wedding! You know... before the zombies, and all..."

Abby felt a surge of relief to know the circumstances of their wedding, at least, were unchanged- as unromantic as that rushed ceremony in the church basement had seemed at the time, in retrospect she wouldn't have altered a moment of it. And it would have been very awkward to have a bunch of wedding photos she didn't actually remember.

Then she thought of something else, which made the relief evaporate. "_Maid_ of honour? Not matron?"

Connor frowned. "No, she's not married. After what happened to Cutter... right before their wedding day..."

"They were engaged?" Abby exclaimed, as lost as ever. She worked it out aloud: "They got together faster, 'cause she never changed. Which made his death even more awful, and she never got over it. But it wasn't supposed to be like that! She had a life! Connor, it's all my fault! What have I done?"

"You saved me," he said simply. "You saved us all. And Matt helped you, so it must have been the right thing. Now, come on. We'll compare Universes in the car; that'll make a lovely ride home..."

Abby did laugh at that, a little. But she remained reluctant to accept all that had happened. Before she could object, there was a footstep outside and a knock at the heavy wooden door. It creaked open, revealing the last person she would have wanted to see: a lovely auburn-haired woman named Claudia Brown.

"Abby? Connor?" she said. "I saw you duck in here. Anything wrong?"

Connor looked at Abby: _Your move_. If she wanted to confess the whole thing to the team- if she wanted Claudia to know the entire, sad story of Jenny Lewis, caught between two lives- now was the time to decide.

Abby looked at the floor. "No. It's nothing..."

Connor nodded and put an arm around her, with an extra little squeeze, just to be supportive. The two of them turned to leave the chapel, and had nearly made it past Claudia when she turned to them with a sad smile. She hugged Abby, and then Connor, and then both of them before stepping back.

"Matt was so proud of you both," Claudia said. "Nick would be, too. I'm sure of it."

Connor murmured his thanks. It was all Abby could do to smile and nod. As soon as was politely possible, they walked away- from the funeral, from the ARC, and from everything having to do with time anomalies and the creatures they unleashed. If they were slightly divided on the issue of how to deal with this latest complication, the Temples were united in the feeling of having seen enough of all that, forever.

They were so determined not to look behind them, neither saw Claudia remove a small black card from her pocket, look at it with a regretful, longing expression, then turn the same look on their departing backs...


	2. Act One

**Primeval 7.1** ("Adaptive Radiation")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act One**

**Two Years Later...**

The Anomaly Research Centre might have seen better days, but it had also seen many worse ones. The second building to serve as the headquarters of that vital if not august organisation was abuzz with activity. Jess Parker was active at the Hub, fingers flying over the controls of her computerised domain as quickly as ever. Claudia Brown, at loose ends in life but organised and efficient in her job, had cleared out both civilians and police from the target area in order to let the anomaly hunters do their work. And the newly-christened Sir James Lester brooded over it all like a particularly sarcastic mother hen, always berating his chicks and protecting them with equal vigour.

The team itself was about its work, investigating a creature sighting at a closed-off power plant in a neighbourhood called Green Hill, near South Hillingdon. The anomaly itself was playing hard to get; the Detector had turned up a sort of half-hearted alarm but couldn't get an exact read on the anomaly itself, perhaps because of all the interference generated by the plant. In any case, it hardly seemed the sort of thing the team would find troubling- under the command of Lt. Colonel Hilary Becker, former security captain, present-day military hero decorated half a dozen times in two years, the newest iteration of the team had distinguished itself time and again.

All of which was lovely, but in Jess's opinion, it didn't serve to make their leader any less insufferable. She had a... history with Becker, which had a habit of coming up at the worst possible moments. Now, for example.

She started out trying to be ever so professional, working the Hub as usual: "All right. Still no reading on the anomaly, but I've been able to use all this background data to track at least three targets on the ground level. You'll want to be careful of the machinery-"

"Yes," Becker's voice snapped. "I know what I'm doing."

Jess curled her lip and bit back something angry. "It _happens_ to be sensitive, Colonel Becker. Something you would know nothing about."

"Tell you what," Becker said, "if I damage the power plant, I'll buy it flowers, so it can pretend to forgive me, then slowly drive me mad over the next six months..."

"Hmm," Jess said. "Bite me."

Behind her, she heard Lester step to Claudia's side and speak in what he probably imagined was a discreet tone of voice. "And how are we doing today?"

"You mean with the dinosaurs?" Claudia asked. "Or with the love-birds?"

"Oh, not again..." Lester sighed.

Jess felt her face turn red, but as a point of pride, she never let anything effect her performance at the Hub. Not Lester's sarcasm, not equipment malfunctions, and not an arrogant, emotionless man who didn't have the first idea how to make a real connection with a woman he professed to love.

"I have a schematic of the facility up, but there's something odd..." She zeroed in on a single chamber that was flashing red in the power plant's layout. "There's a room where the power hasn't been shut down. It's not an essential function; I don't understand why it's running."

"Jess, can it wait?" Becker growled over coms. "Our problems are a bit more immediate..."

_Typical,_ Jess thought, and rolled her eyes. She carefully quashed, as she always did, the part of her that worried every time Becker went into danger; she would have thought their current problems would have made that little voice speak softer, but actually it bothered her more than ever.

For all his stubborn idiocy and for all her valid concerns, Becker remained the only man she'd ever loved, the person she'd once seen as most important to her entire future. Even if that didn't come to pass, she still thought they'd work things out someday. She was quietly terrified something might happen before they got the chance.

But what could go wrong, after all? It was still a routine outing for the team, give or take a few nagging details...

* * *

Lost in the middle of a maze of pipes, electronics, and dark corridors, Lt. Colonel Becker reflected that every time he got what he wanted, it seemed to turn into a source of frustration. They'd destroyed Southfield, but lost Matt and thrown the team into disarray. He'd worked long and hard to figure out his relationship to Jess, and now it seemed all they did was trade cutting remarks over coms. He'd wanted for ages to run the team_ his_ way, on his authority- had sacrificed blood, sweat, and tears over two long years to make it work- and it remained, in his eyes, a grave disappointment.

The scientific specialist, a pale, quiet Welshman named Hughes, had background in both zoology and palaeontology- an excellent man in all matters that could be learned from books- but he lacked the hands-on experience to run from a raptor attack, much less devise anything really clever. The Special Forces operatives, interchangeable strapping lads boringly named Smith and Jackson, did their jobs as well as any soldier of the Crown could expect to do- but without, Becker knew, the drive or inspiration he'd brought to the same job. Only Leila Khan, his second in command, a compact, clever woman with large brown eyes that took in everything, showed any real potential. Leila could analyse a problem. She could think her way out of it, on the run. She would have fit right in with the old team. But there was only one of her, and too many anomalies to go around.

The most frustrating part of it all was that no one else seemed to see how inadequate it was. Lester was manifestly proud of the rebuilt team, constantly ringing up the Minister to expound upon its ever-improving efficiency numbers. Jess claimed- just to vex him, he suspected- the new team bested the old in every time-based trial tracked by the Hub. Even Claudia had taken a moment to suggest, during a moment of down time in which he'd been grumbling about Hughes' poor instincts, that the Welshman's main fault was being neither Abby Maitland-Temple nor her husband Connor, to which Becker snapped irritably "Isn't that bad enough?"

Claudia had to admit he had a point there. Whatever its strengths, the new team would never be the _same_, and Becker was the sort of rough-edged traditionalist who struggled to cope with change.

Right now, he felt entirely lost- not least because, well, he was lost. Without a word from Jess, the maze of consoles, pits, and ladders might as well be an amusement park's fun house. _With_ a word from Jess, Becker's blood pressure would only start pounding again.

Thus his current predicament, as he heard the heavy footfalls of a trio of anykylosaurs- sturdy turtle-like dinosaurs as tall as a man, but much wider, with spikes studding their armoured backs and heavy bone clubs at the end of their tails- thundering down upon the team, and Becker in the midst of a crucial one-upmanship contest with his occasional girlfriend.

"Just how immediate is this trouble?" Jess's voice asked suspiciously.

Jackson- a brave lad, bless him, if a bit thick- ran up to confront the ankylosaurs, watched several of his EMD bolts ping uselessly off their armour, and took a bone club squarely to the chest, flying halfway across the power plant's main chamber to illustrate Becker's point.

"Oh..." Becker sighed. "The usual..."

"Concentrate fire!" Leila called across the chamber to Smith and Hughes. "We've got to bring them down before they smash something!"

Becker shook his head. "That armour's too tough! We'll never get through! I'm open to suggestions, Jess..."

"Oh, really?" Jess said. "Colonel Becker wants _my_ input? Because_ I_ thought I was a naïve busybody who didn't know the first thing about-"

"Really not the time!" Becker snapped, as one of the ankylosaurs pawed the ground and charged him.

Smith and Hughes managed to duck out of the damn thing's way, but Becker held his ground, firing his EMD until the very last instant. When it was close enough to smell its breath, he dove, barely evading a swing of the tail that would have crushed his skull like an overripe melon.

"Oh, no, it's never the time to discuss our issues!" Jess said, while he was on the floor. "You just make passive-aggressive asides about them and refuse to open up emotionally until I'm mad with-"

"Jess, I'm _about to be opened up physically_!" Becker growled.

The bone club whistled back around, and Becker rolled out of the way as it destroyed a fuse box on the wall and dented the metal where he'd been a moment before. He looked around for his EMD, but it was on the ground, a metre beyond his reach...

* * *

At the Hub, Jess was just beginning to realise their routine mission had turned into anything else, when the sound of metal being smashed and twisted overwhelmed her ears. She fought down panic, ran a check for functioning coms...

"Becker, are you all right? Becker!"

"...still here," his voice groaned. "For the moment."

Jess felt dizzy with relief. "The creatures are right on top of you..."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Another loud_ clang_ through coms caused Jess to jump. She felt a hand on her shoulder: Lester's. He nodded, calm and encouraging, while Jess coaxed the Hub's instrumentation through a field of interference...

"Becker!"

"Everything's under control," he said.

Jess hissed. "I thought you'd been murdered..."

"Try not to sound so disappointed."

That one struck home; if Becker hadn't even noticed that she still cared about him, despite everything, that she would be devastated if anything happened... or worse, if he knew all that and was capable of shrugging it off, what chance did they have? But she couldn't worry about that any longer. She had a job to do; they all did.

Claudia was also standing over her now, and she pointed to the blinking room on the Hub's display. "What exactly_ is_ that room? James?"

Lester scoffed. "Surprisingly, I came to this without the requisite degree in electrical engineering. Perhaps it's the loo..."

"Is that Lester?" Becker's voice said. "Tell him, if he's going to listen in on coms, he might make _helpful_ suggestions for once!"

Feeling a bit better now that Becker's bad humour was restored, Jess turned a mildly reproachful look on Lester. "Becker says to be more helpful."

The ARC's director shrugged. "Tell him I suggest frequent dodging."

"That's a mental image," Claudia smiled. "Becker as the Artful Dodger..."

"Pity Oliver Twist has left the gang."

Jess frowned. "Do you mean Connor, or Abby?"

"He's Oliver," Claudia said. "She's Twist..."

On the Hub, Jess could still see the dead spaces representing the cold-blooded creatures peeking through the field of particles she was tracking at the plant. The much warmer shapes of Becker and one of his soldiers had briefly gained some distance, but now they were closing in again...

* * *

At the power plant, Leila Khan scrambled to Becker's EMD, picked it up, and tossed it to him on the run. He caught it in the air, turned, and fired, striking a glancing blow that dazzled an ankylosaur's eyes and caused it to turn aside from trampling him. Unfortunately, the off-balance swipe of its tail clipped Smith across the side of the head, knocking him senseless and sending him crashing into Hughes. The two of them collapsed in a pile, and then the scientist had difficulty struggling out from under the soldier's much heavier weight...

Becker knew they wouldn't last long if they remained underfoot. He had to draw the creatures off. He signalled to Leila.

"Becker, what do you think?" said Jess, over coms. "Would Connor or Abby make a better-"

"Bit_ busy_ at the moment!"

With Leila's EMD covering him semi-uselessly, Becker stomped and shouted in front of one ankylosaur, successfully getting the beast to follow him. When it was committed to the pursuit, he turned and leaped onto the back of a second ankylosaur, barely avoiding serious injury on those terrible spines. He hung onto the bony protuberances for dear life as the creature shrieked and bucked, trying to throw him off. He acceded to its wish, just as the one following caught up...

Its tail club smashed the other ankylosaur full across the back as Becker hit the floor. The wounded ankylosaur turned on the other and swung its own tail, denting the floor in front of its companion, while Leila helped Becker to his feet.

"That's two of them occupied," she said.

"Not for long..." He turned his attention to the third ankylosaurus, coming in behind the others, and snapped to Jess: "I mean it, from now on coms are for official traffic only! The next joker I hear is going to find themselves barred; I don't care if it _is_ Lester!"

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Jess sighed. "Must you be so cross about everything?"

"At least I know how to focus on a-"

"Excuse me," Claudia Brown broke in, "I hate to interrupt such lovely bickering, but I may have that helpful suggestion you mentioned..."

"Long past time!" Becker snapped, as the third ankylosaur closed in and he and Leila showered it with a useless volley of EMD bolts. "What is it?"

* * *

Back in the ARC, Claudia reached past Jess's shoulder to indicate that same, blinking chamber. She seemed to have fixated on it.

"Notice anything out of place about this room?"

Jess frowned; then, all at once, she had it. She felt like an idiot for missing it the first time; worse, since she'd allowed petty sniping with Becker to distract her. One way or another, that untenable situation would have to be resolved. For now, however...

"It's connected to the grid through these power lines here..." Jess said, tracing the path. "Which were just destroyed along with the fuse box! But it still has power. At least, it_ reads_ as having a power signature..."

"You think it's the anomaly?" Lester said.

"It's deep inside the facility... that would explain why I never got a normal reading. But I've never seen an anomaly show up like this before... almost like it's generating energy..."

"Connor used an anomaly to generate energy, didn't he?" Claudia shrugged. "We've seen all sorts of odd things from them, over the years..."

"I don't know." Jess shook her head. "There's something not right..."

* * *

At the power planet, Becker and Leila were in headlong flight now, having drawn all three ankylosaurs away from their wounded team-mates. For whatever good it would do them, if the beasts managed to destroy something in here and take out a city block...

"Becker, turn right!" Claudia's voice crackled through coms. "Lead them toward that room! Its location is on the schematic in your sat-nav!"

Becker called up the schematic on the run, and frowned. "You want me to herd three ankylosaurs into a tiny storeroom?"

"If the anomaly is in there, they won't exactly need legroom..."

"Yeah, but what if it's not?" Jess sounded troubled; he knew that tone well. "Becker, I'm not sure... it's an odd reading. If you get there and it's not the anomaly, you'll be trapped."

"We're already trapped, Jess!"

He turned and fired a couple of bolts, but they slowed the creatures not a whit. A cross-corridor was coming up fast; the right turn Claudia expected was just ahead. Becker took a deep breath.

"Lester, if anything happens to this plant, I assume the Minister will be a bit cross, so I need a call!"

The ARC's director hesitated. "I don't see another option. Field discretion, Colonel."

"Oh,_ that's_ helpful!"

Becker and Leila reached the cross-corridor, and hesitated with the creatures right behind them. Leila turned to him, at a loss.

"...which way?"

Becker looked both ways and swore under his breath. Calculating strategies and tactical odds in a matter of seconds was what he did, but that never made the moment of the actual call any easier.

"Right! Come on!" he said, grabbing Leila's arm.

They raced flat-out down the right-hand corridor Claudia had indicated, while one ankylosaur skidded to a halt in the corridor behind them, and another smashed right through the corridor, wrecking metal and wires alike with the sharp edges of an armoured shell that didn't quite fit...

* * *

"Wrong. Oh, this is wrong," Jess said, at the Hub. "Something's wrong, I don't like it..."

Lester frowned down at her. "If you think the risk is too great..."

"It's too late. There's no other way out down that corridor." She shrugged. "He'd better be all right..."

Claudia touched her shoulder; of all people, Claudia Brown, whose fiancée Nick Cutter had been lost during an attack upon the ARC, knew exactly what she was feeling. She wondered if they'd been anything like her and Becker once- and whether they were destined to follow the same path, or whether they might escape alive, like Connor and Abby. She had no way of knowing exactly what that escape had cost them, but she knew intuitively the price had been great, if only because the infamous pair had stayed away so long... like they were terrified of having anything to do with the ARC again.

_We won't end like that,_ Jess decided. _Not like Professor Cutter, either. We'll work it out. I know we will. We'll be safe, and happy, if he'll please just be all right..._

* * *

Becker and Leila burst into an open chamber on the lowest level of the power plant, still firing their EMD's behind them to spur on the ankylosaurs. They came to a set of wide, metal doors, and stopped.

"These have been closed the whole time," Leila said. "They didn't come through an anomaly here."

Becker nodded, but the sound of thunderous running behind him rather drowned out thoughts of level-headed nuance. "It's still the best place we're going to find for a trap."

"But what about the reading?"

"I don't know, it must be a glitch or something!" Becker shrugged. "You heard what they said; there's no power going in! The creatures can't hurt anything in there, if they'll just fit..."

Leila turned and saw the ankylosaurs trashing the corridor behind them. "Here they come..."

Becker drew a deep breath. "When I count to three, pull open the doors and run. I'll draw them inside."

"How are you going to do that?"

Becker considered, came up empty, and said, "Don't worry about me. And don't look back, whatever happens."

Leila met his eyes and nodded. She grabbed the door release with both hands, while Becker stood alone before the oncoming stampede.

"One." He thought about Matt and Abby and Connor and Danny, and how much he wished his old friends were about to make this adventure seem worthwhile.

"Two." He thought about Jess, about Sarah Page, about all the risks he'd taken and everything he'd lost over six years at the ARC.

"Th-"

"Colonel, wait!"

Becker turned; Leila had a strange look on her face as she stared up at the door- stared at nothing, as though she'd been dumbfounded by some revelation. Or that was what he'd think later- in the moment, it appeared to Becker she'd frozen up, and he could see no cause for delay. The door was just a metal door. The room was just a room. The dinosaurs were still dinosaurs. It happened sometimes, with creatures bearing down- soldiers froze. Usually not soldiers as good as Leila, but you could never tell...

And the ankylosaurs were still coming, seconds away now. Another snap decision; Leila still stared about in shock-

"Three!" Becker said, and wrenched the doors open himself.

Then Leila found her voice: "No, _wait_!"

But the gears were already moving, the metal doors rolling aside, and there was no time for a change of plan. Leila turned and pushed Becker into the room, then slammed the doors behind him, leaving herself to be crushed.

"No!" Becker cried, scrambling to his feet-

"Becker, what's going on?" Jess demanded on coms, as desperate as he felt-

He reached out for the doors, but something exploded and the shock wave sent him flying backward, in the opposite direction, until he cracked his skull against the metal wall.

"_Becker_!" Jess's voice cried.

His vision swam; he seemed to be encased in a tomb of metal, solid bulkheads all around him. The doors had been blown open a crack; he could see, and smell, things burning outside. In the distance, other things- larger things continued to explode, a chain reaction that could take half the Green Hill neighbourhood with it. Becker beheld all this with a sort of clinical dispassion, as the ringing in his ears and the pain in his head drowned out all else.

Outside the shielded room, the walls began to collapse. _This room is so well-protected,_ Becker thought absently,_ almost as though it was designed for this. Perhaps I'll even survive..._

But that wasn't the thought he carried with him when unconsciousness took him. No, the thought that grabbed onto Becker and held him fast as he tumbled into blackness was the realisation that Leila Khan had known it would happen, a moment before it did- and that he had taken her insight for weakness, and charged ahead into disaster. But he still didn't understand where the insight could have possibly originated.

The words echoed in his brain, around and around as he fell ever deeper: _What did she see?_

When the echo stopped and he fell entirely into darkness, it was something of a relief.

* * *

Jess stared at the Hub's display for a long time, unable to accept what she'd just seen. The horror, the scope of it was beyond her imagining, and the personal loss far too grave to contemplate...

"What happened?" Claudia demanded. "What's going on?"

"Some sort of explosion," Jess murmured. "Set off a chain reaction..."

"Is the power plant compromised?" Lester asked.

She turned to him with tears in her eyes, her face stricken and ghostly white, all the blood having drained from her brain to keep her from processing what just happened.

Jess said, "It's more than just the plant..."

Across town, in a quaintly old-fashioned flat befitting a woman from the 19th Century displaced in the 21st, decorated with a number of tasteful antiques but also a certain Spartan aesthetic, Emily Merchant sat at her sofa with a glass of wine and a crumpled, yellowed letter.

She'd received the lengthy missive from Matt two years ago, the day of his "funeral." She read it over regularly, at least once a month. Sometimes once a week, when she found herself missing the ARC. She'd remained with the team for over a year after Matt's accident, even after Connor and Abby left, removing two of the tent-poles that might have supported her through this awful time in an amazing future era. Eventually, she just couldn't do it. She stopped coming in to work as often. Then she stopped coming in at all. Then the bills piled up, and she had to get work in a shop, just like a mundane person of the future.

She still saw Jess sometimes, and Becker. Jess never ran out of cheerfulness to spend on all in need, and Becker had been unusually kind. If anyone knew about losing people, it was the ARC's latest field leader. Of Connor or Abby, she heard nothing, and all her messages went unanswered. Much as Emily fancied herself self-sufficient, it stung to lose them, particularly Connor- her once-partner in crime, whose love of science fiction geekery had spoken to Emily's own optimism about her brave new world.

The optimism was all gone now. Some of it had gone when she lost Matt; the rest was nurtured by the papers in front of her, the letter assuring her he was safe and well in the past, and would return to her. She'd cherished those words for a long time. She wondered if she was very stupid to need so long to realise they were lies.

She looked down at the ornate ring she wore- originally Abby's wedding ring, given to Matt when he made his sacrifice, and left for Emily as a promise, along with the letter. As false as the letter. She removed the ring and started to throw it across the room- when she didn't have the heart for that, she just set it down on the table before her.

In flicking her eyes across the room, they fell on the TV. Emily felt rather silly for needing such a futuristic distraction, particularly when money was always tight, but sometimes the pleasant fictions to which Connor had introduced her were the main things that kept her sane. It wasn't as though she could go home- ever. As far as the 19th Century was concerned, Emily Merchant had perished. If she tried to go back with her knowledge of the future, she could do irreparable damage.

But from the images on the television, more than a little damage had been done on this century as well. The screen showed her a disaster area full of burning rubble, but by the time Emily turned up the sound, it had changed to the stern face of a white-haired newscaster:

"...again, we interrupt this program to bring you a special report. Breaking news in London at this hour, where an explosion at a local power plant has rocked the entire Green Hill neighbourhood. Hundreds are wounded and dozens feared dead in what the Home Office has termed a 'major catastrophe.'

"Although there's no official words as yet, several officials speaking off the record attribute the accident to carelessness by agents of the Anomaly Research Centre, operating under Home Office supervision. Established eight years ago to investigate the natural phenomena called 'anomalies,' the inner workings of the ARC are almost completely secret, and their reason for being at the Green Hill plant is not yet known."

The camera switched angles, to a grainy picture of emergency personnel sorting through rubble, and Emily sat bolt upright: One of the survivors being removed on a stretcher was all too familiar to her.

The newsman helpfully narrated: "One survivor, the ARC's field leader, Lt. Colonel Hilary Becker, was rescued alive from the site after taking cover in a shielded storeroom. Colonel Becker is presently recovering in police custody..."

The images just got more awful after that. Emily turned the sound back down, her eyes welling up with tears. Then came the chiming from her mobile, discarded on the nearest table beside her ring. Emily picked up the device, looked at the caller ID: 'JESS.' Her finger hovered over the button to accept the call.

_Poor Jess, she must be beside herself. And Becker! A thing like that, on his watch... he'll never forgive himself. I have to get down there, I have to help them. Lester can reinstate me on a temporary basis or... something. They'll need someone to keep watch on the anomalies while Becker and Lester sort all this out..._

But the more Emily thought about what coming back would actually entail, the further her finger got from the button. Finally, she put the mobile down. When it continued ringing, she turned it off.

Finally, perhaps, she understood why Connor and Abby had been silent for so long: There came a point, sooner or later, when you just couldn't help any more. When you were far too broken yourself to save anyone else. When you had to take shelter, or risk losing your sanity. Emily had passed that point six months ago.

She drained the rest of her wine, gathered up the letter, and walked into the bedroom, turning off the television in the process. She did it, she supposed, for the same reason so many people turned off the news: She simply couldn't bear to watch any more.

* * *

Two weeks after the disaster at Green Hill, Sir James Lester sat in a conference room at the Home Office, alongside Claudia Brown, awaiting judgement and execution. Not in the most literal sense, although there were those in the government who thought it might not be too inappropriate. It was their project that was dying, their goal of keeping the anomalies out of military hands, along with eight years of their back-breaking work.

Faced with such a crossroads, Lester thought back on his father's words of wisdom: _Where's the bloody whiskey, indeed? A shot or two just now would greatly fortify my mood..._

The door opened and closed in silence, without fanfare. A tall, pale, slightly too-handsome man stood there, carrying a stack of file folders. Lester recognised him as Richard Wilson, special assistant to the Minister, known to some within the Civil Service as "the new James Lester," an appellation he did not believe to be a compliment. That the Minister had sent Wilson meant the news was bad; that the younger man was smiling meant it was the worst news possible.

"Richard," he sighed. "Good day."

"Ah, Sir James. Ms. Brown. How good of you to come." Wilson was a good deal better at phony courtesy than Lester had ever been, and seemed to revel in it more, but he still managed to stick the knife between your ribs. "Please, sit down."

Lester and Claudia reclaimed their seats and waited for Wilson to arrange himself, ever so fastidiously. When he could bear it no longer, Lester plunged ahead:

"I must admit, I'm unaccustomed to being summoned by my juniors, particularly when my attention is so urgently needed elsewhere..."

"Terribly sorry, James." Wilson smiled again, to show he wasn't. "I thought you'd like to know the results of Becker's inquiry before they reached the media."

"I've already given my statement," Lester said. "The inquiry is absurd. We were all present for the Green Hill incident. The decision rested with me. The responsibility is mine entirely."

"Oh, yes, the Minister realises that," Wilson replied. Big smile. "But thirty-two people died, and a public example must be made."

"Of Becker?" Claudia demanded. "But it wasn't his fault!"

Now the sharp-edged smile turned in her direction. "No, one might say it was the person's fault whose bright idea it was. But there is audio from the ARC of Becker being warned of danger at the scene, and he ignored that warning. For that, he'll be stripped of his commission."

"Unacceptable," Lester said through gritted teeth. "I must speak to the Minister."

This time, Wilson actually laughed, which might have meant the end of the world. "You're welcome to make an appointment. Between us, I think you'll find you've used the last of your influence in keeping your friend out of prison."

"I have no friends, Richard," he said, very evenly. "You know that. I need Becker to run the ARC."

Wilson shook his head, affecting an expression of mock-pity. "Oh, I am sorry. Wasn't I clear enough? There is no ARC, James. Not any more."

Lester and Claudia struggled to find words; neither of them came up with anything useful. Wilson assassinated them with a final smile, tapped his stack of files on the table to straighten them out, and strode from the room with them under his arm.

"What are we going to do?" Claudia asked, when the silence in the conference room stretched to interminable lengths.

Lester studied his shoes before meeting her eyes. "Whiskey. Plan. Revenge. That order."

"Sounds good," said Claudia. "I hope you're buying."

She offered Lester her arm, and they walked out of the Home Office together.


	3. Act Two

**Primeval 7.1** ("Adaptive Radiation")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Two**

At Central Metropolitan University, every student knew there were three categories of classes: The classes you wanted to get, with lax or disinterested professors and easy subject matter, where you could doss off without anyone caring. The classes you didn't want to get, with demanding professors and impossible subjects, where you needed dedication to maintain your standing. And Professor Temple's physics class, which defied description and might as well have a sign hung on the door: "Only fools and madmen enter here."

Professor Temple himself might have been both, and a raving genius besides. No one knew what to make of him; you heard his reputation and you thought of some wizened old ogre, but he was really young, and hardly appeared formidable. He could be cool, too- one time he caught a student watching _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ on a tablet hidden inside their textbook, and rather than getting upset, turned the whole class into an impromptu discussion of warp core design.

But you had to be on your toes in Professor Temple's class, because sometimes the things he said were absolutely mental. He might be covering basic material in an introductory class, and suddenly blurt out several paragraphs of temporal theory, of which no student could understand two consecutive words, as though he was working out the secrets of the Universe right there in the classroom. And woe betide the student he called upon who failed to answer the riddles he posed at such times! When the shell-shocked soul inevitably blinked and cleared their throat and stammered I dunno, sir, he didn't get angry. But he always looked _disappointed_, as though he couldn't believe other people didn't follow these tangents, which seemed perfectly rational to him.

Another professor in his department- A Professor of Advanced Mathematics with an Oxford pedigree, no less!- was once brought in to assist in a lecture. The poor man studied a chalkboard full of Professor Temple's equations for half the class time before turning to the students and confiding, in all candour, that he hadn't the faintest idea what the damned thing said.

Nor was that the only mysterious bit about Professor Temple. People said they didn't know where he'd been hired from, they didn't know his qualifications. Someone thought he used to be a student at the University himself, not even ten years gone... but few of the leftover faculty members remembered him, and the one or two who dimly recalled said only that there'd been a great change in him, which they attributed either to maturity or congenital insanity. One swore he was the spitting image of a young Nick Cutter, himself something of a campus legend and a bogeyman to incoming students.

A persistent rumour held there was underground video- online hacker stuff, strictly illegal- of Professor Temple working for some secret government agency, and on one occasion riding a dinosaur! Which seemed perfectly mad, except that Temple was the sort of odd bloke you could believe _might_ ride a dinosaur, if one happened to wander along. When asked about such things, the Professor only laughed and said his wife would kill him if she ever caught him doing anything so dangerous.

After a couple years of this, Professor Temple's class drew an odd mix of students: The overachievers, who wanted to match wits with the man reputed to pose the toughest riddles on campus. And the outsiders, the geeks, the slackers who came to his class out of morbid curiosity, or amusement with his quirks, and had no expectation of any success. Usually these transferred out after a few classes; those who remained admitted they were impressed with the way Temple seemed to understand their lot in life. Sometimes they even came away having learned something.

One such young man- a fellow in his early twenties named Alan, a bit taller and more heavy-set than Professor Temple, with sandy-brown hair a few shades lighter, but with very much the same scavenger's look about him, as though they'd been pressed from the same mould several years apart, sat in the back row of his class one lazy afternoon, watching the professor fight his daily struggle against apathy.

"So!" the Professor said, springing to the chalkboard as he did when he was onto something particularly unintelligible. "We can see Einstein and Rosen are just the beginning. A proper understanding of wormhole theory has to begin with-"

A woman in the front row, a pretty redhead named Miss Grayson- the combination of hair and moniker prompted Alan, in a fit of X-Men geekery, to think of her as _The Phoenix_- raised her hand. She did this several times per class; she seemed to take the whole thing as a challenge, and no student was fonder of provoking the Professor to new logical leaps.

"Excuse me, sir," she said innocently. "When you say 'wormholes,' do you mean anomalies?"

Professor Temple stopped, smiled at her- it wasn't really a smile- and tapped his foot several times before answering. "Yeah, I understand there's a school of thought that believes the natural phenomena witnessed a few years back were... a kind of wormhole. That's an interesting theoretical debate, and far beyond the bounds of this class. Now-"

"But doesn't that change everything?" Miss Grayson persisted. "Actual time travel? Doesn't that turn all the theories on their heads?"

"It would," Professor Temple said. "But it's hard to believe, isn't it? If time travel were real, you'd have... men coming back from the future, and knights in shining armour riding through London."

He said it as a pat joke. Some of the students laughed, as they were obligated to do. But Alan thought his face was weird when he said it, like he found the joke funnier than anyone knew, and also... sadder, somehow. More serious.

"But what about the Anomaly Research Centre? You know, the one they just shut down? If the government's studying them, doesn't that mean they're real?"

"You know, uh, I dunno. That's not really my-"

"'Course it doesn't mean that!" another student protested. "Didn't you hear the whole thing was a scam? Just another useless government project..."

"There was a T-Rex, though, a few years back!" Miss Grayson said. "And weird things all over the world. It was on the Internet, and even the telly, for a while..."

"Another scam! Look, don't be naïve. The whole thing was some secret weapons project, or something. How else did they blow up half of London?"

Some students laughed at that; Alan didn't, and he noticed Professor Temple didn't seem amused, either. But whatever displeasure crossed his face was quickly gone, as he gestured the burgeoning argument into silence.

"Look, um. Convergence is not fully understood, and it's really not my place to talk about... anything like that." The professor cleared his yet. "I will say I think those people at the ARC were just doing their jobs. 'Cause it stands to reason that if there _were_- wormholes, anomalies, Einstein-Rosen bridges, whatever- if these things were appearing in the world, that would be really dangerous. Things would happen. Really... bad things."

He turned back to the chalkboard, hopeful the insurrection had been thwarted, but Alan couldn't leave it at that. He cleared his throat.

"So you've never seen an anomaly, sir? You've never researched them at all?"

Professor Temple frowned. "I dabbled a bit, but I gave it up. Even if it's the next frontier, it'll be a hundred years before we're ready for it. I like my science a bit more practical."

"That's weird," Alan said, "because all your equations assume the existence of anomalies. I mean, you don't really spell it out when you can help it. But they do."

The Professor narrowed his eyes. "No, Mister... sorry, whatever your name is... I think you're confused, 'cause... everything we cover here is established science fact. I may go a bit mad at times, but I wouldn't bring anomalies in."

"Not here," Alan said. "I mean in your papers. The ones you've written."

"My... how'd you get those?"

Alan shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Weird, right? They're on the Internet, if you know where to look. It's... sort of a hobby."

"You don't date much, do you?" The Professor said, to another small round of laughter. "I don't think we need to get into all that-"

"Some of the interesting bits are blacked out, but the equations only work if you assume the existence of a powerful magnetic field with seriously freaky temporal properties. Basically, an anomaly. So why do you act like you don't care about them?"

"You've done my equations?" Professor Temple asked. "_All_ my equations?"

"Well, all but the last. That one bothers me, 'cause... it seems to imply the possibility of creating an artificial anomaly- basically a stable wormhole. I keep thinking I must have a variable wrong, 'cause that's like _Deep Space Nine _stuff. Impossible, right?"

Professor Temple looked at him, looked around the room, then back at Alan. "Class dismissed."

Miss Grayson raised her hand. "Excuse me, Professor. I think you'll find we still have ten minutes to-"

"Sorry, are you official timekeeper? Get _out_, all of you! Read Chapter 18 for next week. You've got exams coming up; all questions will be _on material we've covered_; if you want to gossip about time travel, do it on your own... well, time. If you think I won't fail you for a clever answer, you have no idea how much resentment I carry with me to class!"

All around the room, students gathered up their books and shuffled papers and filed out the doors with looks of sincere gratitude. Alan pretended to do the same, but he wasn't surprised when Professor Temple crooked a finger at him and said, "Not you."

Miss Grayson turned back and favoured Alan with a sarcastic little teacher's-pet smile, before fleeing the scene. Alan finished gathering his books and approached the lectern.

"So, I was right, then? There is a cover-up! Sorry to blow your secret, but I knew you'd never take me seriously if I didn't-"

"I don't take you seriously," the Professor. "I want you to keep your conspiracy theories out of my class, all right? I'm trying to prepare these kids for the world, and I don't need you undermining me."

"Don't you think they deserve the truth?" Alan said. "You can't put rampaging dinosaurs back in the bottle, Professor! Even the Phoenix knows there's something wrong-"

Professor Temple blinked. "Who?"

"Oh. Sorry. Miss Grayson." Alan laughed. "I call her Phoenix 'cause of-"

"Yeah. Jean Grey. I get it." Professor Temple snatched up his own papers, while pretending not to stare at Alan. "You know, you're not as clever as you think. At least Miss Grayson asks questions. At least she wants to understand. You just want to look cool, and you know what? You look like a nerd."

Alan scoffed. "Takes one to know one. You talk about conspiracy theories- you know you're all over the archives of a dozen message boards? Bigfoot, Men in Black, alien abduction. Somebody's scrubbed the files pretty good, but not good enough. You're just like me, Professor."

"No, I _was_ like you," said Temple, "and then I learned something."

"From the ARC, right?" Alan shook his head. "I know what happened. They tried to take it public after Convergence, but it all went wrong. Nobody wanted responsibility for he Green Hill disaster, so they turned the whole thing into a laughingstock. '_Secret weapons project... Internet hoax_.' It's like a conspiracy in reverse. They can't conceal the truth, so they've made it too ridiculous to believe!"

"They did a good job," Professor Temple said. Having finished with his papers, he turned and started walking away. "Look, I'm serious. No more of this in class, or you're out. I have no time for it."

"But, look, about these equations. I can show you how I-"

"Forget them," the Professor tossed over his shoulder. "Whatever you've found, it's just useless rambling. No one's ever gonna believe you, and you'll never be able to recreate them in full. They're a conceptual leap ahead of the field, and not a good one. Lot of nonsense, really."

Alan watched him go; he'd been certain he could pique the professor's interest if he showed he was clever enough to understand. Having failed in that, he felt at a loss. Just before the older man disappeared, he yelped, "Alan Hall!"

"Sorry, don't know where it is. There's an Andrews Centre, just down the..."

"No, sir!" He ran to catch up to the professor, who was walking quickly. "That's my name! It's Alan Hall."

"Pleased to meet you, one building to another. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's my turn to pick up the baby from my mum's, and my wife will be _really _cross if I'm late again..."

Alan blinked; every time Professor Temple mentioned his family- which he did every other class- he felt a weird sort of disconnect. He pictured the other as Doctor Frankenstein, muttering madly to himself in a darkened laboratory- not as a normal bloke who went home, microwaved dinner, and fell asleep watching TV. He wondered what sort of woman married a mad scientist, and whether she might have a younger sister. Then he worried about the trouble he was about to bring down upon this hard-to-imagine family...

"Look, can't we start again?" he said. "I'm Alan Hall. And you're Connor Temple. _The _Connor Temple. That's why I took your class."

The professor frowned. "Don't think I've ever been _the_ anything. Well. _The_ best tabletop gamer in Liverpool at one time. But I'm guessing you've seen a few dungeons yourself."

Alan shrugged and nodded sheepishly. There was no point in denying he was a geek; it was patently obvious to all who looked upon him. Connor Temple might have known that feeling, as well.

"It's not just the papers. I've also seen the video," Alan said. "The one online, with you riding a small sauropod?"

"That again," Connor said. "Come on. Do I_ look_ like I could ride a sauropod?"

"No," Alan admitted, "but you did! The footage was on the news- it's in the BBC archive! Or it was. It's gone now. The government has quietly expunged it. Since Green Hill, they're deleting anything that could lead people back to the ARC!"

"Do you ever think there might be a good reason for that?" Connor asked.

"Yeah, there's always a reason! But how can you be okay with this? You were something special! You were a dinosaur hunter! How can you just give that up as though it never happened?"

"Ask me in ten years," Connor said. "You might understand by then. Assuming you get a girlfriend- which, _really_. Do that. Soon. Blonde, if you can manage. Always go for the blondes."

"But you don't understand!"

"Sorry. Boyfriend?" Connor shrugged. "Well, they make those blond, too. To each their own."

"No! I meant- it's not about me understanding. It's about the truth, because truth is good for its own sake. You're a scientist! How can you not believe that? When did truth become something to be scared of?"

Connor Temple stood before his student, crossed his arms- somehow everything about him changed. Like 'Professor Temple' was nothing more than a role he played, and the real Connor was less certain, more frightened, and much, much more tired. He looked at the younger man with an odd mix of pity and envy- like he wished they could trade places, but knew he wouldn't get the better of the deal.

"Look, Alan Hall," he said. "_If_ there were dinosaurs and_ if_ there were people who hunted dinosaurs and_ if_ I was ever one of those people, there's one thing I could tell you right now, absolutely, without fear of contradiction: _Run._ Just run away, fast as you can. Whatever you're thinking, it's not worth it. Never. You just really need to run."

"I don't want any trouble," Alan said. "I just want to see an anomaly, up close. What could go wrong?"

"You want the list?" Connor shook his head. "Anyway, you'll never find one."

"Already found one. That's why I need your help."

"Can't hear you," Connor said, turning. "Already running."

"But... don't you have any advice?"

Several steps away now, Connor added thoughtfully, "Stay away from things that growl."

Ten steps away now, the next door in range. Alan played his last card. "It's in the Forest of Dean, this anomaly. I think it's been there before. In the Forest of Dean."

He thought he was too late. Three more steps, the professor would be through the door and Alan's chance would be lost. After two and a half steps, Connor Temple turned.

"You've got to be kidding."

* * *

_I ought to have my head examined,_ Connor Temple thought when the reached the car park at CMU. _I should literally go to a doctor and have them crack my skull open to find out why it's so thick._

_Abby asked me to do a few very specific things this evening: Pick up Nicole from my mum's, get something for dinner on the way home, don't blow up the refrigerator again. Pick up child, pick up food, spare major appliances. It's a _very simple list._ Nowhere does it say 'Also, if you happen to pop by the Forest of Dean, could you stick your stupid head through an anomaly and see if you can spot another Gorgonopsid?'_

Of course, some part of Connor's mind rebelled at the idea he ought to do as Abby told him, but the rest of him knew that ship sailed years ago, and on balance, it was more than worth the trade-off. And in this case, particularly, her objections would make a very valid point.

It had taken her a long time to get back to her old self after Southfield- the nightmares never had subsided entirely- and Connor knew full well, anything that had so shaken his fearless love was to be avoided at all costs. They'd been so careful to stay away from the ARC for two years because they feared even being near this stuff might bring danger on their friends, either in the form of someone asking too many questions about the timeline and blundering into another paradox, or by drawing the attention of whatever bits of Southfield Danny Quinn had been unable to shut down. They'd made a pact, not just for their own sakes but for the sake of their child, of her future world- no more anomalies. No more butting heads with time. Not _ever._

In Connor's defence- for in his mind, he was already concocting a defence- the secrets in those old equations were every bit as dangerous as any T-Rex. He had no idea how Alan Hall had acquired them, but if the boy was telling the truth- if he could really solve them himself- then he was close to making the breakthrough that had been at the back of Connor's mind for over two years. The one he knew his other self had made. The discovery that broke the world: Genuine, on-demand time travel.

It had to be worth bending his pact with Abby in order to prevent Alan Hall from travelling the same path. It was for the lad's own good! It was necessary! And, if getting one last look at a prehistoric era happened to remind Connor Temple of happier days and turned out to be something _really cool_, well, that could hardly be prevented...

Still, he couldn't reveal his enthusiasm to Alan. He had to play the stern professor:

"I'm not making any promises. I'll take a look at this anomaly, but if it turns out to be _anything,_ we've got to call someone."

Alan shrugged. "Who? The ARC is shut down. Do you really want to call in the military?"

"More than anything," Connor lied.

Alan stopped in the middle of the car park and turned on him. "What happened to you, Professor? You're not the same man from the video."

"_Alleged_ video."

"Sure, whatever!" Alan sighed. "Didn't you ever want to run _toward_ trouble, instead of away?"

"Yup. I did," Connor said. "Then I found out what it cost."

"But sometimes the cost is worth it, right? I mean, you must want someone to carry on for you! You can say what you like for the record, we both know the principles you teach in your classroom are going to lead your students toward anomalies. _Someone._ Sooner or later. You just can't keep science at a standstill. All those mad ramblings- what were they, but a test? Face it, Professor: You've been waiting for someone like me."

"Yeah, but not for someone who can do maths," Connor said. "For someone who appreciates it. For someone who can be trusted. You're a long way from that, kid. As for students, they're a stupid lot- they're gonna run toward trouble no matter what I tell 'em. I just want them to be careful."

Alan shook his head. "See, you're talking, but it doesn't even sound like you. You're young and enthusiastic! Then anomalies come up, and suddenly you're a grumpy old Scotsman!"

"Am I, really?" Connor brightened. "Thanks!"

"Wasn't a compliment."

"Yes, it was."

Connor was so cheered by the thought, in fact, he whistled a jaunty tune as he quickened his pace toward Alan's car. A few moments later, the whistling trailed off as he realised they'd been up and down the car park, and hadn't _seen_ Alan's car.

"Well, where's our ride?" he asked his young companion.

Alan took a breath. "Behind you."

"Well, why did you say so?"

"No..." The younger man looked down at the pavement. "I mean, _behind you._"

Connor started to turn, a horrible suspicion dawning- as was customary with him- about five seconds too late. Huge, strong hands grabbed him from behind; more hands gagged him, looped a heavy rope about his arms and legs, and dropped a blindfold over his eyes. Connor tried to kick and struggle, but he couldn't even get his feet under him- the two sets of hands picked him up and tossed him, none-too-gently, into what smelled like a rented car. From the size of it and the slamming of doors behind him, it must have been a van. Connor rolled around, triedto get his bearings, but he kept bumping up against a sack of... something. He couldn't see, couldn't orientate himself. Dimly, outside the fan, he heard a deep voice growling, and Alan's much softer reply:

"Took you long enough."

"He needed more convincing than I thought."

"Don't worry," the deep voice rumbled. "He'll get it."

An engine started, and Connor felt the slight vibration beneath him as the van began to move. He dropped his head on the dirty metal floor and groaned around the gag in his mouth.

_Pick up the baby, pick up dinner, don't blow up the fridge... what was the fourth thing? Oh, right!_ Don't_ get kidnapped and murdered!_

If the thugs didn't kill him, Abby almost certainly would.

* * *

Across town, Emily Merchant tried to keep herself calm and steady as she rode the lift up to the fourth floor of Becker's building. His flat was number 4C, but almost nobody but Jess had ever been there. The former security captain and field leader of the ARC had always been so _private_. Few of his colleagues knew what he did with his off-hours. Matt once speculated that Becker slept upside-down in a weapons locker, Dracula-like, and fell to the ground fully armed at any hint of trouble.

Emily hadn't made the journey to Dracula's crypt before, and wasn't sure why she was making it today. The news said an official decision had been made in the Green Hill incident and the officer involved had been disciplined, but there was nothing Emily could do about that. She'd had no trouble ignoring the frequent summons from the ARC over the past weeks. So why break her silence now, today?

Maybe she was doing it because Matt would have done the same; he and Becker had been close, in their quiet, understated way. Maybe it was from nagging guilt that she'd left Becker's team in the first place. Maybe it was a simple desire to feel she was still connected to something in the 21st Century.

Whatever it was, Emily steeled herself as the lift doors opened- and found herself face-to-face with another long-neglected friend.

"Jess!" she said, and jammed the 'hold' button after a moment's consternation. "Hello."

"Hi," Jess said. She glanced back toward 4C. "I suppose you're here for Becker. I'm not sure he'll see you. He didn't have much time for me."

"Of course not," Emily said. "He was always your hero. The last thing he wants is for you to see him wounded."

"Yeah," Jess agreed. "That's the whole problem."

Emily frowned. The younger woman appeared worn-out, defeated; dark circles under her eyes, a bit too thin- she must have worked herself a frazzle after Green Hill, and not recovered yet. She'd asked for help with that, and Emily hasn't even answered. She suddenly had to look away.

"Look, I know... you tried to get in touch with me. I wish I could explain..."

"You don't have to," Jess said. "There was nothing you could have done. They made their decision about the ARC the moment it happened. No sense sinking with the rest of us."

There was an implied bitterness to those words, but to her credit, none of it was in Jess's tone or bearing. She just seemed sad... which made Emily's guilt far worse.

"Is there nothing that can be done?"

Jess made a face. "Lester thinks there is. He says he's working on something... to tell you the truth, I don't see it. I've already applied for half a dozen positions. Even Claudia's checked out, and she's lived for her work since... I don't know. Maybe you were the clever one."

She passed Emily on her way into the lift, and Emily stepped out into the corridor. They stood there, on opposite sides, regarding each other, and finally Jess reached for the button.

"If you get through to him, will you call me?"

"Of course," Emily said.

Jess took a deep breath. "And leave your mobile on for a few days. Just in case Lester's right."

Emily blinked. "Jess... even if he can do something... I'm not coming back. I'm done. You know that."

"Yeah," Jess said, "but give us a few days. Please."

"All right."

The doors closed between them, with Emily unable to shake the not-quite-accusatory look in Jess's eyes. She turned, staggered before she'd got in sight of her goal, and drove herself onward. When she reached the foreboding designation- 4C- she took several beats to steady herself before rapping her knuckles sharply against the door.

"Yeah, c'mon in," a muffled voice said.

Emily reached out- the door was unlocked. She swung it open and stepped into a perfectly ordered flat that was far more tasteful than she would have imagined. She supposed she'd thought of Becker as living in a military barracks, or one of those one-room flats that was just four bare walls and a place to sleep. But it was quite nice; the artwork on the walls showed the same keen eye for colour as the paint beneath. The furniture matched, and looked comfortable without being sloppy. There were even a few photos on the mantle, Becker's parents and friends, Jess- and one of the ARC team, back during Danny Quinn's tenure, with Connor making 'rabbit ears' behind Abby's head and Sarah Page holding onto Danny's arm and laughing at some joke, while Becker standing watch over them all like a lion guarding his pride.

The only thing that spoiled the image was the present-day man himself, reclining on the sofa with a half-empty bottle of scotch and a glass that was empty save for the ice cubes. Emily cleared her throat.

"Yeah, just take whatever you-" Becker blinked, turned, and quickly sat upright. "Oh. Sorry. I thought Jess forgot something."

"It's all right." Emily smiled. "You don't have to apologise for poor posture, you know. You're off-duty."

"For the rest of my life, apparently." Becker poured himself another glass. "Care for a drink? A toast to old times?"

"I don't know if..." Emily stopped, shrugged. "Actually, yes. I think I could use one."

Becker crossed to the kitchenette and retrieved another glass from the cupboard. From his slightly unsteady gait, Emily wondered if the open bottle was his first of the day, but he held it well. He poured a smaller glass of scotch and handed it to Emily.

"Cheers," he said, clinking both glasses together.

"Becker, I wanted to say-"

"No, don't say it. Jess said it, Claudia said it. Even Abby called to say it; yes, she's still alive, apparently. Somewhere. As for Lester, he gave me this bottle. Well, _a _bottle. We had a drink together. First time in six years. First time for everything. And a last."

Becker drained his drink almost immediately; Emily sipped hers slowly. "There's no hope of...?"

"Appeal? No. That was my final appeal, and it was strongly hinted any objection might cause them to reconsider their reluctance to file criminal charges. So, I'm not in jail. Here's to me."

He finished the drink and reached for another. Emily stopped him with a hand on his arm. Reluctantly, he turned to look at her.

"What will you do now?"

Becker shrugged. "I dunno. Private security beckons, I suppose. I still have friends in that line. But my savings will last a while. Perhaps I'll sail around the world."

Emily couldn't hold back a smile. "Jess would like that."

"Yeah, one problem at a time," he sighed. "I wonder what she saw..."

"What Jess saw in you, you mean? There's so much, it's rather obvious. Don't think it's not."

"No. Sorry. Thinking about something else." Becker nodded toward her drink. "Look, I don't mean to be a bad host, but perhaps you'd better finish up and go. I have... a lot to work out."

"You don't have to do it alone." Emily steeled herself. "I'm sorry, but I have to say it. We all do. We're your friends. It wasn't your fault. I know how you feel, but-"

"Do you really? Why don't you kill thirty-two people and get back to me?" Becker regretted it almost as soon as he'd said it and looked apologetic, but Emily didn't flinch; she'd heard far worse in her time. Finally, he looked away. "It was only twenty-eight civilians. The rest were my team, my whole team: Smith, Jackson. Hughes- the little guy was tougher than he looked. He hung on for a while; they thought he might make it. He didn't. I got that call today."

"Becker-" she said.

"And then there was Leila. She saw something. I know she did. We were in the same situation, same unmarked room. She saw something. She tried to warn me."

"Are you sure that's what happened?" Emily said. "The way I heard it, even the government inquiry hasn't found the exact cause of the explosion. They've been over the place with a fine comb."

"Yeah. They hope they'll find more when... the hazard levels drop." Becker sank back into the sofa, rubbed at tired eyes with his fist. "She knew what was going to happen. I didn't. And she's dead and I'm alive. Where's the fairness in that?"

Emily sat down beside him and covered his hand with her own. "Just one of those things. It doesn't mean you're responsible."

"But I was. Come on, let's be honest! I was! Do you think that would have happened to the old team? Do you think Matt would have let it? I mean, damn it to... Cutter and Danny never even had a plan- made it up as they went along- and they never lost a team. Even Claudia kept her team alive, when she was interim chief. And I'm the one who couldn't. That's who I'll always be."

"Yeah, maybe," Emily said, a bit annoyed with the self-pity. "Or maybe it had nothing to do with you. Maybe it wasn't personal. If Danny and Connor and Abby had been there, maybe they'd all be dead. Maybe you would, and they'd be blaming themselves. Because it just happens."

"Not to that team. They had nine lives, those people. Soldiers have but one." Becker poured another glass, held it up in mock-salute, and drained it, shaking his head. "You can go now. You've heard the speech. Mission accomplished."

Not knowing what else to do, Emily emptied her glass- mostly so Becker wouldn't- patted his hand again, and stood. She tried not to think about the part she'd left unsaid, the argument she hadn't made because she couldn't bear it: _Matt didn't have nine lives. Matt's probably long dead._ But Becker didn't need to be reminded; if Emily knew him at all, there was a shot somewhere in that bottle reserved for Matt Anderson's memory, as well.

"Good-bye, Becker," she said. "My mobile will be on for the next few days, if you need to..."

"I know she saw something," Becker said, not as a response. Almost as though she wasn't even there; he'd dismissed her from his reckoning. "I'll find out what it was."

Emily didn't want to encourage him; nor did she want to sever this last thread binding him to the life he knew. In the end, she just turned around and went.

She cried in the lift, all the way down, for Becker and Matt and for the team in that photograph, who never could have guessed what was coming in their future. But when the lift doors opened, she was perfectly composed. In any century, Emily Merchant was a part of the British Empire and a subject of Queen Victoria. A lady had her dignity- no matter how much she might wish otherwise.

* * *

The van drove on, over smooth roads and rough roads and grooved roads that made Connor's teeth chatter. But the latter wasn't a total loss, because it helped him spit out the gag. He drew in several deep breaths before he realised the air in the van wasn't any better through his mouth. Still, at least there was more of it.

"That's better," he murmured, when his lungs were full. "Sort of. I think. My wife's gonna kill me. You hear that, Alan? You're about to be responsible for a murder!

"'Course, it's not all your fault. Abby can be so unreasonable. I mean, I love her, but she doesn't trust me with anything! Claims I'm not 'responsible' with the baby! And I only forgot to pick her up once- okay, twice. _Two times_, that's all!

"Three times, now. I am so sleeping on the sofa for the next week. Honestly, I wouldn't put up with it if she wasn't so far out of my league..."

The sack of something beside him cleared its throat and spoke in his wife's voice: "Connor?"

"Errrr... yup?"

"You know I'm right beside you, yeah?"

"Well, I do now." He moaned softly. "I was right about one thing. I _will_ be sleeping on the sofa."

"Yeah."

They didn't say much for the rest of the drive. Connor hoped that was because Abby didn't want to give any additional information to their captors, and not because she was silently composing her petition for divorce. The van finally rolled to a halt on the side of a smooth road on which they hadn't heard another vehicle for some time. After some jostling about, the doors opened; Connor and Abby were hauled out into cool, open air. Their legs were untied and their blindfolds removed: It was the Forest of Dean, very near the site of that first, long-ago anomaly. Two heavyset fellows with the look of military men, mercenaries, or hired killers stood guard over them, along with a nervous Alan Hall.

Connor had bigger problems. "See, when I said you were unreasonable, I meant unreasonably _tolerant_ about..."

Abby sighed. "Connor, we're about to die. Must you blither like an idiot?"

"You want to remember me the way I was in life, don't you?" Connor shifted his gaze. "Hello, Alan. I'm gonna kill you later."

The younger man looked away. "Sorry, Professor..."

"He's sorry. Oh, well, he's sorry. So... good, then. Must kill him."

The heavyset men pushed them forward, and they began a short hike through the forest. As best Connor could determine, they were headed straight for the original anomaly site, which meant either there was a genuine, reoccurring anomaly there, or someone was looking for the perfect spot to kill them and possessed a wicked sense of irony.

Abby, for one, seemed to have her money on the second possibility. "Is this is Director? Is that who you're working for? You can tell him, if he wants his revenge, he should untie me and turn his back for just one second. Then he'll get exactly what he deserves."

"Wait," said Alan, a little further back in their procession. "I know you! You're the blonde from the sauropod video! Oh, brilliant, so _she's_ the one you... oh, you're right, Professor! She's much too good for you!"

"Shut up," said Connor, and the turncoat fell silent.

They walked on in silence, until finally they came to a clearing- if Connor wasn't mistaken, a familiar clearing. The ruffians gave them a final shove through a last clump of trees, but there was nothing in all directions but more forest. The men stopped to untie their arms.

Connor took a deep breath. "Abby, whatever happens..."

"I know," she said. "It's all right. This was all my fault, and it was worth it..."

As soon as their hands were untied, Connor reached out and grabbed his wife's hand. Together they awaited the firing squad, be it literal or metaphorical...

There was a crunching from the far side of the clearing. Someone was coming through the trees... the Director of Southfield? Something worse? The seconds ticked by ridiculously slowly, as two more large men with weapons appeared... then Connor got a glimpse of who was with them. His mouth fell open.

_"You!"_

Alan broke away from the guards and ran to the newcomer like an eager pup. "See? I brought them! Didn't I bring them, just like I said?"

Across the clearing, James Lester brushed bits of leaves off his coat, strode out to meet Connor and Abby, and barely remembered to respond to his young accomplice. "Yes, apparently. Now please wait over there... in_ silence_."

Alan turned and trudged away, deflated, while Connor exchanged confused glances with Abby. Only two years ago, they'd been mock-kidnapped during their honeymoon, by assailants acting on the orders of Danny Quinn. And now Lester!

"I wonder what it is about us that makes our friends want to kidnap us."

His wife shrugged. "Perhaps if you'd _met_ you, you'd understand."

"Yeah, I suppose I... oi!"

"I don't believe this," Abby said, turning to the newcomer. "What's going on, Lester?"

"Oh, good," said their former boss, "then you remember my name. I thought you might have forgotten, since you didn't answer my calls, letters, or e-mails."

"So you decided to kidnap us?"

Lester arched an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I couldn't resist having a bit of fun. After the way you walked out on me two years ago, you're lucky it didn't involve raptors."

"Look, you don't understand!" she said. "We had to leave! There'd been a-"

"Paradox resulting in a massive timeline shift? Yes, I know." When their jaws hung open for a moment, Lester shrugged. "Did you really think you recorded that official report at the behest of the Home Office, Abigail? You both left so abruptly; I had to know why. My apologies."

"That's all?" Abby said. "'Apologies?' That's all we get, after-"

Lester turned his attention on the other half of the team. "And you, Professor Temple. After I went to such trouble arranging your cover, I hoped you'd be cleverer."

"Come on, that was only fair!" Connor said. "What was I supposed to do, go back to school knowing more than the top professors?"

"He _is_ the world's leading expert on temporal physics," Abby added helpfully. "Or so he says when he wants to impress me."

"It's true! I'd have my doctorate by now if I hadn't wasted all those years at the ARC!"

"Wasted? Well." Lester shook his head. "I won't pretend your attitude isn't slightly hurtful, but I'm prepared to overlook it."

"Hold on!" said Alan Hall, charging back into the mix. His eyes were full of betrayal when he looked at Connor. "You mean you're not even a real professor?"

Lester turned his cold glare on the youth, who fell silent by degrees. Then he returned his attention to his captives. "Did you really think there was another anomaly in the Forest of Dean? A coincidence like that? I suppose you thought it was some sort of destiny."

Abby sighed and poked Connor. "He always wants to be the Chosen One..."

"Excuse me, Abby! I never did!" Connor pointed the finger in Alan's direction. "I wanted _him_ to be the Chosen One. I wanted to be Obi-Wan."

Lester scoffed. "Oh, he's nobody's chosen anything. I'm afraid he takes far too much after my dissolute brother-in-law."

A bit dizzy from the right turns, Connor glared at his student. "You mean Lester's your _uncle_? So all that stuff about my equations... did you really find them?"

"Yeah," Alan said. "After... you know... Uncle James gave them to me. I did make sense of them, though! Sort of. After a fashion..."

Connor groaned. "Er... listen... Lester... if I ever said or did anything to give the impression I thought your nephew was... well, sort of an idiot... there's a good reason for that!"

"An excellent reason," Lester said. "He's an idiot. But enough gossip; I've brought you both here because I need your help."

"I think you need it more than you know," Abby said.

"And why is that?"

"Because," she pointed past Lester's shoulder, "there's another anomaly in the Forest of Dean."

Connor turned along with the rest of the crowd. There it was, perhaps five metres behind them, in what might have been the exact spot it appeared the first time: A shimmering, pulsating, silver-gold crack in time, beckoning them to come and see what they'd missed. Then something on the other side growled, to remind them such bravery had a cost.

Alan Hall turned to Connor with an expression of wonder mixed with terror. Connor knew the feeling all too well. Usually, he had it right before someone got hurt...


	4. Act Three

**Primeval 7.1** ("Adaptive Radiation")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Three**

Abby Maitland-Temple stood in the Forest of Dean alongside her husband, her former boss, and a weird kid named Alan who made her think her husband's younger self had just stepped out of a time-travelling DeLorean. She really wished that were the strangest and most disturbing thing about her day. That distinction, unfortunately, had to belong to the anomaly. The lot of them stood there, staring at the crack in time and space as though they'd never seen one before. (In fairness, that might actually have been the case for Alan, but it was no excuse.)

Abby turned to James Lester in accusation. "Did you arrange this somehow?"

"Don't be absurd," he said. "It must be a coincidence."

"Some coincidence."

"It's almost like... fate," Connor said, which was one of those little reasons she sort of hated Connor in addition to being in love with him.

The growling on the other side of the anomaly was still there, and still no one had moved to address it. Abby supposed she'd have to be the adult.

"Well, can't you lock it?"

"Yes, of course," said Lester, spurred into action. He gestured to a couple of the military types he'd used to sweep them all too literally off their feet. The men hurried back to the van and returned with an anomaly locking device, which they began to assemble...

Connor motioned for them to forbear. He was looking at Alan with a funny little smile on his face.

"Let him see it, first."

Alan blinked. "Who, me?"

"Who else?" Connor shrugged. "There's trouble for you, right through there. Go and have a look."

"But- what about the growling? You told me to-"

"Oh, never listen to me!" Connor said. "I'm not even a real professor! But, eh... you'd better hurry, right?"

Alan suddenly burst out an absurd grin and ran toward the anomaly, while Lester looked on doubtfully and Abby sidled over to her husband.

"Please tell me you're not taking him under your wing," she murmured.

Connor scoffed. "I don't have wings, Abby. I'm not your lizard."

"You're taking him under your wing. Perfect." Than a yet more terrible thought struck her, and she looked up at him in alarm. "I suppose this means you want back in?"

"What? Oh, no, no, no! 'Course not! We made a pact, so... never! No!" Connor turned to Lester with unconcealed curiosity. "What seems to be the trouble, though?"

Meanwhile, Alan had finished taking deep breaths to steady himself, and (after a final, impatient prod from his uncle) stuck his head through the anomaly. Since it was a reoccurring phenomenon, the odds were good it led to the same place as the first one, and Abby could make a fair guess what he saw: the same things Nick Cutter had seen on that very first day. An unspoiled prehistoric vista, with impossible creatures grazing in the distance, and perhaps a few Coelurosauravus like Rex winging past on the breeze. Then the growling sounded again, and Abby feared Connor might have taken his little game too far...

But Alan backed away from the anomaly almost immediately, so stunned he nearly fell down. He turned back to Connor with mixed horror and wonder on a face as white as a sheet:

"That's a- that's- that's- it's a dinosaur! There's a dinosaur hunting out there! A dinosaur growled at me! A real dinosaur!"

"Don't be silly!" Connor said. "That anomaly leads to the Permian Era, so what you saw would have been a mammal-like reptile... in the shape of a dinosaur."

"But it's real! Everything Uncle James said was real! The video was real!" Alan trailed off, took a breath, started again. "You rode a sauropod!"

"Just a little one." As Lester's men had to physically move Alan out of the way so they could resume the work of locking the anomaly, Connor leaned close to Abby and whispered, "Please tell me I wasn't...?"

"Oh, you were much worse."

Connor looked disappointed. "Really?"

"Yeah."

Even Lester looked a bit amused, but his natural cynicism reasserted itself. He arched an eyebrow at them, apparently unmoved. "Are you ready to listen now?"

Abby took a deep breath and shook off the past. "No, I don't think so."

Connor said, "Abby, maybe we should-"

"No!" she insisted. "Absolutely not! Do you really think it's a coincidence? Same anomaly, same place, just the right time? It can't be. That anomaly opened for us, Connor. It opened because we were here. If we stay, we'll have to find out why. That's the _last_ thing I want to know, so we can't stay."

Lester cleared his throat. "Not even to help Becker? I'm sure you've heard he's been discharged."

Abby turned to him, saddened and a little ashamed. "I'm sorry about that. I really am. We tried to call Becker after it happened. I talked to him. It didn't do any good."

"I got the same reaction. It seems no one is listening to anyone any more, and that must change." Lester shook his head, visibly unhappy. "I'm afraid there is no ARC without the two of you."

"Oh, rubbish!" Abby said. "The ARC survived without Cutter and Danny and Matt, and it can survive without-"

That's when the growling was heard again, sounding almost on top of them. Lester's men were having trouble with the locking device; it seemed to have malfunctioned.

"Um, guys?" Alan said, backing away. "This might be a good time to mention... that not-dinosaur thing? It was _really_ big... and sort of angry."

A moment later, something fitting that description charged through the anomaly: An awful, hunchbacked, predatory shape with viciously snapping jaws. Abby recognised it as a full-sized Gorgonopsid, a nice match for the one they'd met the first time. It trampled the locking device before the men could get it working, and they barely evaded its jaws.

Abby rolled her eyes at Connor. "_You_ had to let him look!"

"Well, I thought he should know what he's getting into." Connor did his best to look innocent. "Speaking of which-"

"No!" Abby said sharply. She knew just where this was going.

"But I always wondered if it would work!"

Lester's men were doing their best to beat back the Gorgonopsid, but they didn't seem to stand much chance. Abby didn't recognise them from the ARC; they were either new recruits or regular soldiers, entirely untrained for this. Which left the matter where she always knew it would end up...

She sighed. "All right. Be quick about it!"

Connor turned to Lester with a grin. "Keys!"

Lester shouted to one of the men, who turned and tossed Connor his keys before rolling away from a strike. Connor caught them in the air, turned, and ran back toward the van.

One of the benefits of cheating death with the same man for eight years, Abby could guess within a few seconds how long it would take him to do his part, and how long she had to do hers. It would be time enough- if Alan didn't keep tugging at her arm like a frightened child.

"What are we gonna do?" he demanded.

"Already doing it," Abby said. "Have you got a pocket knife?"

"A... what?"

"A knife! I need something sharp! Oh, never mind..."

While the men drew the Gorgonopsid off to the side a bit- or perhaps he dragged them- Abby fell upon the broken pieces of anomaly device, and found a shard of metal that had broken under the Gorgonopsid's weight. She held it up, took a moment to ensure the wind was with her, then winced as she raked the jagged metal across the skin of her palm...

Alan yelped. He thought she'd lost her mind. He started to run toward her, but Lester held him back, serene and even pleased with himself.

Abby held up her hand and squeezed, ignoring the stabbing pain that caused. She'd had a baby several months earlier; a cut on the hand was nothing. She felt the slick blood running between her fingers, dripping onto the grass...

The Gorgonopsid, a impressive predator with an incredible sense of smell, definitely noticed. It perked up its head and bulled right past Lester's men, on the scent of wounded prey. Abby turned and ran toward the road. The Gorgonopsid thundered along behind her.

Somewhere off to the side, Alan was still raving: "We've got to do something! It'll kill her!"

"Do try to learn something, just once," Lester said. "Would I have gone to such trouble if these weren't the _right_ people?"

_The right people for what?_ Abby thought, annoyed by his smug attitude; but that was Lester, and right now the devil she didn't know personally was a much bigger concern. She hoped Connor hadn't done anything unusually silly, which was a bit like hoping the day didn't end in "Y," but he'd had a lot of practice at this sort of thing and he'd been getting pretty good, toward the end. Abby knew she used to be_ fantastic_ at it. She only hoped Connor wasn't as rusty as she felt...

She ran until her lungs burned, until she could hear the Gorgonopsid huffing behind her, smell the faint, weird odour of the past world it had left behind. The road was in sight, but she wasn't going to make it...

And then the van tore in from the side. Connor wrenched the steering wheel so that its empty back doors were right in front of her. Abby leaped inside, not missing a beat, and took care to drip a bit of blood in the back so the Gorgonopsid would keep coming without hesitation...

As soon as Abby had vaulted into the passenger seat, Connor jammed the van into reverse and floored the pedal. Gorgonopsid met vehicle at high speed as Connor and Abby bailed through the front doors-

Something made an awful _crunch_ behind Abby, as she rolled several times on the pavement, scraping up her arms and face from a rough landing. When she'd stopped rolling and managed to get her wits about her, she turned to see the Gorgonopsid caught in the twisted remains of the van, just as intended. (Though not really as expected- Connor's plans were always a bit hit and miss. This happened to be one of the good ones.)

The Gorgonopsid thrashed about, half in the vehicle and half out, but only succeeded in trapping itself further as Connor helped Abby to her feet and they turned to face the waiting military men. The soldiers looked surprised, not to say awed: Connor and Abby certainly made an odd pair, a couple of nondescript civilians walking away from a confrontation with a prehistoric beast as though nothing unusual had occurred. Abby did her best to keep even a smile off her face, lest she should ruin the picture.

They stopped in front of the soldiers. Abby held up her good hand. "EMD's?"

The soldiers looked at each other, then at Lester, then tossed a couple of the familiar pistols to Abby and Connor. They turned as one and stunned the Gorgonopsid into submission, then returned the pistols and exchanged a quick high five before heading back toward Lester and Alan.

"I knew that'd work," Connor muttered. "I knew it!"

"Oh, big deal. Stephen did that ages ago..."

"Yeah, but not backwards!"

Abby couldn't help laughing a little. A thought formed in her mind:_ That was fun._ It was followed immediately and decisively by a flood of other thoughts: _No, no, no, that was _not_ fun. Almost dying at the hands of creatures that should be extinct is never, _ever_ fun. You are far too mature for that, and you've made too many mistakes. You can't afford to see this stuff as 'fun.' Not any more._

She thought she'd won the debate with herself by the time they reached the others, but still: the thought had been there.

When they were back where they'd started, Lester offered Abby a handkerchief with which to bind her sliced palm. Meanwhile, Alan stared from her to her husband as though they had at least six heads between them.

"That was... I don't... that was... you're _completely_ mad!"

"Well, yeah." Connor shrugged. "Why d'you think I told you to run?"

Lester graced them with a smile. "Well done, I must say. And I think you've confirmed something I've long suspected."

Abby sighed. "What's that?"

"You miss working for me."

Abby exchanged a look with Connor. It was perfectly untrue, except when it wasn't. The important thing was that they let no hint of doubt show in front of Lester. They had to maintain a united front, fifty-fifty, or else get roped back into...

"Yeah, sometimes." Connor blurted. He winced when he saw the effect that had on Abby's half of the team. "I mean, no, 'course not. Never do."

Lester shrugged. "Whether you do or not, you've clearly maintained your skills. That's excellent."

"Why?" Abby said, past suspicious now.

Her old boss hesitated; for a moment, Abby thought the least deferential man she knew was having trouble framing something tactfully. Finally he surrendered.

"When I said there was no ARC without you, I meant it literally. The Minister shut us down after Green Hill; I've just recently persuaded him otherwise."

Connor gave out a surprised hiss. "How'd you manage that?"

"Do you recall the time I was nearly replaced by Christine Johnson?" When Lester saw the years-old incident had not faded from their minds, he continued, "That experience convinced me I would need further leverage in case of... unforeseen political difficulties. In simple terms, I know where the bodies are buried."

"All right. Well done." Connor shrugged. "What's it got to do with us?"

Lester had the courtesy to look unhappy. "The Minister imposed certain restrictions for reactivating the ARC. A review of all policies, particularly those instituted by Becker, a lot of bureaucratic meddling that needn't concern you... and henceforth, full civilian oversight."

"You mean like we had with Burton?" Abby asked. "Some Prospero VP overseeing everything?"

"Yes, quite. That was the minister's very idea. Fortunately, I was able to counter by suggesting two civilians with a lengthy and admirable track record at the ARC, whose hands were absolutely clean of the Green Hill incident."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Abby even started to wonder who these potential saviours might be, and whether they could be trusted with responsibility for anomalies. Then, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she suddenly knew they couldn't be. Not at all.

It was Connor who said it: "You mean _us_? No, no, no, that's mad! It's bad enough you want us back at the ARC! But…_ running the place_?"

"Much though it pains me." Lester nod's was solemn, as though a great weight dragged his chin toward the ground. "It seems the day of Daphne and Scrappy has arrived."

"'Cause you need civilians? Didn't you try to _sack_ us for being civilians once?"

Lester arched his eyebrows. "Yes, and now it's come in handy. I do concede the irony."

Abby and Connor turned to each other and tried to regroup. They normally had a pretty good idea what the other was feeling, but now they were both so at a loss, there was just... nothing.

So Abby gave the pre-rehearsed answer, the only possible answer. "We couldn't. We've been out too long. Lester, we've got a daughter to think about!"

She thought appealing to his humanity might work; for all his clever insults, Lester wasn't an ogre. He had children of his own. Surely he'd see it couldn't work!

"Yes, Nicole Sarah Temple," he said, sounding out the name. "Congratulations. I might suggest you do this for her future. It's the only solution that will satisfy the Minister. If he doesn't get what he wants, he's prepared to go the other direction and scrap the whole thing. Or do you really want the Army assuming control of anomalies forever more?"

"It's not that simple..." Abby sighed.

"Oh, but it is. The world has taken great notice of anomalies in the last few years, but Britain remains the leader in the field. Once we give up on a non-military solution, America, China, and Russia will follow. Then it's only a matter of time until anomalies are made weapons."

"That was always a matter of time," Connor said, sounding sad and old and really a lot like Cutter.

Abby stared at Lester, saw he was serious, and looked down at the ground as the wind— and other things- caused a sudden chill.

"This isn't fair," she murmured.

"On the contrary, this is what you've always wanted: The chance to determine precisely how the creatures will be handled, to put them first for once. Can you honestly tell me that holds no appeal, Abby?"

"But... what about Becker?" she said. "It's one thing to _help_ him. Now you want us to _replace_ him."

Lester hissed, annoyed with her, himself, the government, or maybe all at once. "Becker's military rank is gone. That's outside my authority, and the Minister has expressly forbade him any further public role on the team. You _could _quietly rehire him as captain of internal security... provided you were in charge..."

Abby looked at Connor. Connor looked at Abby. They both looked at Lester.

"It's just impossible," she said.

Connor added, "If you need us to consult with whoever you get... help out in a crisis or something... we'll do what we can. But we can't go back to that life."

Abby nodded, pleased they'd held firm. She concluded, "We're really sorry."

Lester rolled his shoulders, an elaborate shrug. "No, I quite understand. I suppose there's no alternative."

As Abby exhaled heavily and took Connor's hand in her good one, as they turned around to leave, once again a united front, Lester gestured to a couple of his military types.

"You and you- arrest them."

They whirled about in shock. Abby thought it must have been some sort of joke- Lester's quirky sense of humour at work. She would have thought it a bit extreme, but after the whole kidnapping thing, perhaps he was more of a practical joker than she'd ever realised. Then she saw the military men going for their guns- they, at least, were not treating it as a laughing matter.

"You can't arrest us!" Connor protested.

"Can't I?" Lester shrugged. "You have committed crimes."

"What, changing the timeline?" Abby said. "You can't even prove that happened!"

"That's not the crime I mean." Like an obedient pet, Alan handed Lester a file folder on cue. The ARC's director leafed through it. Apparently it was full of data on Abby and Connor;he said, "I see you've left your old flat. House in Upminster. Of course, growing family. If I were to search this house, what do you think the odds are I would find several thousand pounds worth of stolen government property?"

"What?" Connor exclaimed. "Of course not! We didn't _steal_ anything! I'm offended!"

Abby got it first, and sighed. "Connor, he means Rex..."

"Oh. Well, yeah, we stole _him_! But he doesn't count! He belongs with Abby!"

Lester shrugged. "He's an _extremely_ exotic animal and a state secret. I think a magistrate would find he counts a great deal. Of course, if you worked for the ARC, it would be sanctioned research and not theft..."

Connor glared at their former boss for a long time before lowering his eyes. "I really hate you."

Lester only stared back, implacable. He'd beaten her husband, but Abby wasn't willing to surrender yet, and she thought she had a better grasp on how to get to Lester. When their eyes met, she didn't flinch.

"You know, for all the times we didn't see eye-to-eye, I always thought you'd stand up for us."

"Becker's gone, Emily's gone, Jess is wavering. Claudia was meant to be here today, but apparently she's otherwise occupied. I can't stand up for the team if there_ is _no team." He looked away, and when he looked back, there was something new in Lester's eyes. Maybe for the first time in their acquaintance, he was talking to Abby as a person. As a friend. "What did you do yesterday? Or the day before? Call you even remember? Did any of it matter as it once did?"

"We have lives now," Abby said. "Ordinary lives. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Unless you're capable of more."

Connor was staring past both of them, at the anomaly, which Lester's soldiers had finally managed to lock with a second device while they were arguing. "Why did that thing open? _Really_?"

"I honestly don't know," said Lester. "Perhaps because... it's your time. Everyone is waiting to see what you can do."

Without waiting for them to agree, he turned and walked back toward the road, where someone had brought in a government car and another vehicle was towing away the Gorgonopsid. Abby noticed Alan staring at the unconscious beast until the last, as though he'd never meant for things to spiral so far out of control and had no idea what was about to happen next.

Or perhaps that was how _Abby_ felt. But Alan looked uncomfortable, too...

* * *

Claudia Brown was eating lunch on a park bench about a kilometre from the ARC, or at least pretending to eat. Mostly, she was people-watching: Cheerful groups of friends, young families, old couples who'd been together forty years all passed by her bench, and Claudia envied them, each in their own way. She'd been some of those people, once upon a time, or harboured hopes of becoming them. She'd been a _lot_ of people in her time, more than most.

As for what she was now... that was almost impossible to determine. Fortunately, her mobile chimed before she could get very far into brooding about it. The number on the caller ID was too familiar.

"Claudia Brown," she said, without enthusiasm. She worked at adjusting her tone to something enthusiastic while James Lester's characteristic sardonic snarl filled her in on the afternoon's happenings. "Oh, you got them? That's wonderful, James. Absolutely brilliant..."

She almost meant it- or part of her did. The part that was Claudia would be happy to see her friends, whom she had no reason to bear any grudge. The rest of her... was distracted, staring across the park at her reason for choosing this spot where she ate lunch at least twice a week: A man named Michael Miller was also on his break. He walked past her without a second glance, as always. His attention was occupied with an attractive woman with long, black hair and sparkling eyes: the ring on her finger said she was Mrs. Miller, or perhaps the _new_ Mrs. Miller, depending on your reckoning. As Claudia watched, the couple stopped beneath a couple of trees, the autumn breeze causing their coats to whip around them and multicoloured leaves to swirl about their heads. Michael leaned in for a playful kiss...

Claudia looked away. The black card had found its way into her hand, as it always did at such times, and she stared at it accusingly for a moment before remembering she was supposed to be part of a conversation, and she had no idea what the hell Lester was going on about...

"...what? Oh, no! No, sorry, I'm fine. I'll be in tomorrow. Yes, I've missed them, too." She took another look at the card before slipping it into her pocket. "I must have a chat with my old friend Abby... and soon."

She turned off the phone, without any real regard for whether Lester had finished speaking. The Millers were already walking away; after a final glance in their direction, Claudia Brown gathered up her lunch and walked as quickly as she could in the other direction.

She'd barely touched her food; she tossed most of it on the way out of the park, and managed to litter quite spectacularly. With tears stinging her eyes, she could barely see the rubbish bin...


	5. Act Four

**Primeval 7.1** ("Adaptive Radiation")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Four**

"There you go, Mrs. Nelson. All set. Who's next?"

Claire Jackson was minding her teller's window at the First Central Bank of London, as she did every weekday afternoon, when a new customer stepped inside who made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

Claire dealt with new customers every day, of course, from every walk of life. But this woman seemed- different, somehow. Dark-haired, attractive if a bit severe, it was her eyes that unnerved Claire. She seemed very intense and just a bit mad, and she couldn't quite keep from scowling at those around her, as though their presence offended her somehow. She looked like a customer who would cause a problem for the sheer satisfaction of it.

It was nearly time for Claire's break, and she rather hoped the intense woman would delay long enough for her to close her window and escape. She'd had enough troublesome customers, including the fellow who wanted to start a new account with an autographed Manchester United football jersey as collateral. But to Claire's dismay, the intense woman marched right up with the air of someone who knew precisely what she wanted- or, perhaps, precisely what trouble she wanted to cause.

Claire held back her sigh and determinedly forced a professional smile into place. "Good day, ma'am. How can I help you?"

"Now, that's an interesting question," said the intense woman. "I believe a Senior Vice President of your bank is touring this branch today, a Mrs. Elizabeth Evans? Is that correct?"

Claire frowned. "I... wouldn't know, ma'am. Would you like to speak to the manager?"

"Simple child," said the severe woman. "I believe I already said I'd like to speak to Mrs. Elizabeth Evans. If she's reluctant, tell her Helen Cutter would like a word. Right now."

Claire sighed; something about her seemed to draw the mad ones. "Ma'am, I don't mean to be rude, but there are people waiting, and-"

"Are there?" Helen Cutter arched an eyebrow. "We must certainly take care of that..."

Something in her tone worried Claire, who gestured to the bank security guard. The elderly fellow moved toward them, but before he could approach, Helen drew something from her pocket. Claire was about to scream- she thought it was a weapon of some sort- but it was just a little silver orb, like a large ball bearing. If she'd been familiar with the defunct terrorist group known as Southfield, she might have recognised it as a bit of their leftover technology from the future. But of course she couldn't have guessed that- almost no one in the whole world could, which from a certain point of view, made the world vulnerable.

Helen tossed the orb straight up into the air; it burst with a sudden, electric flare like a bolt of lightning. The security guard and several people around him dropped unconscious. Patrons screamed and rushed for the front doors, but before Claire Jackson could move to join them, Helen's free hand was holding a pistol, pointed straight between her eyes.

"That's better," Helen said. "Now you have all the time in the world to get me Mrs. Evans."

"I... I really don't know if she's here, ma'am," Claire stammered. "I'll have to check..."

"Very well, but hurry. If I'm impressed with your customer service, I might open an account."

While Helen stood amongst the bodies of the fallen, the edges of her mouth turned upward in a self-satisfied smirk, Claire Jackson backed away from her window in a panic and ran to find her boss. Anything to get away from that terrifyingly mad look in Helen Cutter's eyes...

* * *

Jess Parker was minding the Hub, not that there was much to actually do without a lead team to investigate the anomalies it detected. Most of her work these days consisted of sending backup teams to deal with minor threats, out of the public eye, and passing anything important off to the military. The work was incredibly dreary, and she started when she heard James Lester's voice. The voice was familiar; the note of optimism it contained was not. At least, Jess hadn't heard it for a long time.

"You'll be reporting directly to the Minister's special assistant, Richard Wilson. He's extremely unpleasant, so that should be fun for everyone." Lester stepped into the control centre, and Jess was already grinning before she glimpsed the person on the receiving end of his talk. "Of course, I'll be here to handle the administrative details. You need only worry about the field team.

Jess jumped out of her chair when she saw Abby and Connor follow Lester inside. It was all she could do not to wave her arms and shout to them; she contented herself with a huge grin and an enthusiastic wave, which Connor sort of returned, although Abby was concentrating on Lester.

"It looks like you haven't made _any_ improvements to the Menagerie," she said, visibly disappointed. "If I'm to have actual authority, can't I use it to get better accommodations for the creatures?"

Lester shrugged. "That's between you and the Prospero board, and I'd suggest now is not the best time to beg for favours. In a few months, if we succeed in salvaging this project, you might find them much more accommodating..."

Abby sighed; she'd heard it before, but she plainly knew there was no point arguing with Lester, whose own authority was at an all-time low.

Connor, being Connor, broke the tension: "How much is the pay on this level?"

"Connor!" his wife snapped.

"What? I'm being responsible!"

Jess couldn't hold back any longer. She launched herself at them with arms open wide, swallowing the pair of them up in a group hug, which Lester barely evaded. She was dimly conscious that she was talking at the same time, though even she couldn't quite be bothered to keep track of all the words:

"Oh, you're back! I knew you'd come back! Everyone else thought you were gone for good; but no, I said. They'll be back someday! That's what I said, and-"

"Jess. Jess!" Abby laughed. "Careful, you'll strain something."

"Also," Connor said, "sort of crushing off our air supply..."

"Oh." Jess said. She stepped back, although her grin didn't disappear. "No, of course. I... you're back. Good. That's definitely... sort of good. Er... what have you been up to?"

"Well," Connor nodded toward Abby, "she gave birth and I played quite a lot of Guild Wars online, so really we've both been busy..."

"Oh, the baby!" Jess said, once again off to the races. "You have pictures of the baby, don't you? I must see pictures of the baby! Who does she resemble? Please say Abby! No offence, Connor, but you wouldn't make much of a girl."

Connor shrugged. "That's not what they said on my school football team..."

"It's... good to see you, Jess." Caught in the tornado of Jess's enthusiasm, Abby said the only thing she could that might slow down the maelstrom. "But enough about us. What do you hear from Becker?"

Jess drew back with a sigh. "Not as much as I'd like. I've tried, but... he'll barely talk to me. To tell you the truth, we didn't talk much before it happened. We were never very good at... the talking..."

"You?" Connor said. "Really?"

"Well, him mostly."

"And Emily?" Abby said. "How is she coping with everything?"

Jess shrugged, this topic being less emotional than the last, but possibly even more vexing. "Hard to say. She's been a bit strange, since... what happened to Matt. We talk sometimes, but she's very private. Keeps to herself."

"All right." Abby nodded. "Don't worry about that. I've got a plan to bring everyone back together."

Connor frowned. "Er, Abby, you know _you're _not that great at the talking either, yeah?"

"I'm extremely personable!"

"No, he's right, actually," Jess said.

"Look, we can do this!" Abby said. "It will just need a bit of-"

Someone cleared her throat behind them. Jess turned to see Claudia standing beside Lester, an odd look on her face. She seemed to be looking at Abby particularly, though what the cause of the tension was between them, Jess could only guess. After a moment, she turned the odd look into an awkward smile.

"Welcome back."

"Thanks," Connor said, oblivious. "Good to be back. We were just organising a conspiracy, if you'd like to help."

"Maybe later," Claudia said. "Abby, a word?"

Abby all but tugged at her collar in obvious discomfort. But she nodded in her straight-ahead manner. "Yeah. Sure, absolutely..."

She turned and looked at Connor as she followed Claudia to the door; he seemed sympathetic. Jess had hoped their return would clear out some of the bad air circulating around the ARC, but for the moment, things seemed more awkward than ever. Still, they were back in business- sort of- and all she could do was hope for the best.

Hope was something Jess was pretty good at, and she determined not to allow any of the depressing events of recent days to take it away from her...

* * *

Back at the First Central Bank, Helen Cutter waited at the front desk, as casual as you please. She tried a few times to engage the hostages remaining in the lobby in conversation, but somehow they all seemed very upset about something. Humans. Always over-dramatic.

After several moments, that mousy little teller girl reappeared, along with a middle-aged, portly woman with a well-remembered superior smirk: Elizabeth Evans. In the other Universe, she'd been one of the Directors of Southfield- unfortunately deceased, killed by a futuristic plague in the ARC team's first encounter with them. In Abby's newly-minted timeline, Elizabeth seemed to be a lead a much more humdrum life as a woman of business. Still, she was alive. Helen knew as well as anyone, that had its compensations.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mrs. Evans demanded, as haughty as ever. "I hope you know the police are on their way!"

"Yes, I assumed as much," Helen said. "I hope they'll keep their distance. I'd hate to have to kill everyone all at once."

"What did I say?" said the teller. "She's mad!"

Helen smiled at her. "Oh, we're well past mad, dear. I have seen the emptiness at the pit of eternity- and do you know what? It's better than this."

Mrs. Evans sighed, dismissing that as the ranting of a lunatic. "If you intend to rob this institution, you won't get more than-"

"Did I ask for money?" Helen raised her pistol for emphasis, taking a dangerous step toward the other woman. "Tell me, did I even _mention_ money? Honestly, how do you all fit words into _such tiny brains_?"

Mrs. Evans stammered and hemmed and hawed, momentarily lost for words. Helen approached until the pistol was pressed against her heart, smiling like an old friend.

"All I want, Elizabeth, is a private word. You and me, in the vault, no distractions. And then I'll leave."

Mrs. Evans rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you'll get far. But very well, if you like. A word in the vault."

Helen gestured with the pistol, and Mrs. Evans led the way toward the heavy metal door protecting the bank's surplus of riches. And she passed the teller, Helen thought of something else.

"Oh, but I wouldn't want you all to get bored without me." She pulled another silver orb from her pocket and dropped it in her wake. "To keep you company. Enjoy."

For a moment, the teller stared back at her in mute confusion. Then the silver orb burst open to produce an anomaly, and two, three, six, more than a dozen reptiles poured through it, into the bank. Small and darting, possessed of roughly the same size and mannerisms as wild turkeys, they quickly swarmed about the patrons, seeking prey or at least familiar surroundings. Helen knew them as _Compsognathus_- small, carnivorous theropods, perfect for a distraction. Judging by the teller's scream, she took a somewhat less scientific view of them.

One compy jumped up on the front desk, hissed, and leaped at the teller, whose efforts to fend it off were most amusing. Fragile apes, overdependent on their unreliable brains for protection- useless against even the mildest challenge from untamed nature. That was the human race in a nutshell.

Helen was still chuckling when she stepped into the vault with Mrs. Evans and swung shut the door.

* * *

Claudia Brown led Abby into a disused conference room and gestured for her to have a seat, smiling the whole time. Abby couldn't help feeling something awful was about to happen- as though the bill for her time-travelling misadventure, two years delayed, had come due at last. But her friend, if Claudia was still such, conveyed no hint of danger as she twisted the knife...

"So, Abby. Team field leader. Following in Nick's footsteps. That's wonderful."

Abby cleared her throat. "We're... still working out the details."

Claudia shook her head. "You've come such a long way from the girl I met in the Forest of Dean..."

"I guess so."

"No, don't sell yourself short!" Claudia said. "An impressive new job, a baby, a marriage-"

"Well," Abby tried a lopsided smile. "It's just to Connor."

"Oh, but marriage obviously agrees with Connor! He's like a _new man._.."

Claudia was still outwardly pleasant, but Abby couldn't help feeling she emphasized those last words on purpose. She even slurred them together a bit, suggesting the name _Newman_, which was... really dangerous. Christopher Newman had been a Southfield mercenary, an alternate-reality version of Nick Cutter who had been overwhelmed by his opposite number's better instincts and switched sides to work for the ARC. Because of his connection to Cutter, he'd been particularly close to Claudia... or rather, to her own doppelgänger, Jenny Lewis. But he'd been erased from history in the final fight against Southfield. By this Universe's reckoning, he never existed at all, and Abby ought to be the only one who remembered him- save perhaps Matt, if he was still out there.

_How could Claudia possibly know?_

Abby laughed. It sounded more than a bit nervous. "Same old Connor, really."

Claudia walked around the table, circling her, almost as though she was looking for an opening. But her smile never wavered. "Abby, have I done something wrong? I feel like we used to be so close, and now I never hear from you. Not even when you had the baby."

"Yeah..." Abby said. "Sorry. We've just been so... swamped, with all the... domestic stuff..."

"Of course. Silly of me." Claudia's smile widened, and then she aimed for the bullseye: "Have you ever heard of the name Jenny Lewis?"

Abby sat straight up in her chair. "Who's that?"

"Oh." Claudia waved off her own question. "Probably nothing. I was looking into Southfield- you remember, that unimportant little group that was running experiments in Lincolnshire? I found they'd been researching a Jenny Lewis. Even had a photo of her. The odd thing is, she looks just like me. The resemblance is uncanny."

Abby fought panic, tried to think clearly. Had this Universe's Southfield really been researching Jenny, the way their counterparts in the old timeline had looked into Claudia Brown? Was that all this was? Some leftover bits of another history, stumbled upon by Claudia? That wouldn't be so bad. But suppose it was a bluff? Suppose Southfield had stumbled on something really dangerous? Or- suppose Claudia knew _everything_? Suppose she knew what Abby had done to her, inadvertently destroying Jenny's life in order to restore her own? How would she ever explain that?

"Well," Abby said, her throat suddenly dry. "They say everyone has a double."

"Yeah," said Claudia, "they do."

She wasn't really smiling any more. Abby certainly wasn't. She opened her mouth to say something, to try to make it right, to try to make sense of it somehow- and then alarms sounded throughout the facility. Claudia looked put out and Abby didn't blame her, but it didn't stop her from lunging past the other woman to slap at the intercom switch.

"Jess, what's going on?"

"Anomaly at the First Central Bank," said the team coordinator's voice. "Look, you're still settling in. Don't let it interrupt you; I'll pass it to the Army."

"No!" Abby said quickly. "No... the sooner we get back in practice, the better..."

She offered Claudia Brown an apologetic look that was perhaps half-sincere. Claudia nodded, dismissing her from the inquisition- for now. Abby turned and hurried out the door without looking back.

* * *

In a stuffy metal room with limited oxygen, Mrs. Evans favoured Helen Cutter with a sceptical gaze.

"Now, what's this all about?"

Helen shook her head and began to pace the vault, wondering how to explain to limited minds a concept that strained even her understanding. "Of course you don't remember. You were the doubter. Southfield had to offer you absolute proof before you threw in with them- with us. In this timeline, there could be no proof... thanks to Abby."

Mrs. Evans frowned. "Who's Abby?"

"Oh, don't worry, we'll get to her. Just consider- imagine, for the moment- there was another world once, and we used to be friends."

The matron scoffed. "I doubt we were friends."

"Well..." Helen shrugged. "Rivals, perhaps? Willing to stab each other in the back for the slightest advantage?"

"As I said," Mrs. Evans arched her eyebrows, "I doubt we were friends."

Helen laughed. The same woman- the_ very_ same, in a completely altered life. She filed that away for whatever scientific value it possessed. "We did have a common cause, though, to turn the world to our advantage."

"I find_ money_ works best for that."

"Money." Helen shook her head. "Little slips of printed paper, invented by the human race. I offer you _genuine_ power, Elizabeth. The ability to hold lives in your hand- and to crush them. What do you think?"

Mrs. Evans tossed her hair. "Is that what you think you're doing? Controlling lives, crushing them? When the police arrive, you'll be nothing."

"I've already been nothing- for so, so long." Helen shook her head. "I suppose you'll never understand. I didn't think so. But you were the best of your colleagues; the most like me. I had to try."

"Now you're just talking nonsense!" Mrs. Evans scoffed.

"No... unfortunately for you, I'm not." Helen met the other's eyes. "You're a formidable woman, Elizabeth, in any life. And if you won't help me... well. You won't stop me, either."

She raised her pistol and fired before the other woman could register a problem. Mrs. Evans toppled backward, a gasping mess, and Helen used two more bullets to end it quickly. She respected the other enough for that. Then she turned and produced a final orb, activating it against the floor of the vault.

It created a new anomaly- her means of escape. Helen stepped over Elizabeth Evans' body as though it were nothing, which she knew too well it was. She passed through the anomaly and vanished, her portal disappearing behind her. In moments, there was nothing to say she'd been there at all.

* * *

An hour later, traumatised and choking back tears, with a bloody rag held to her forehead, Claire Jackson did her best to answer the questions of a broodingly attractive man whose badge said he was a detective constable. She tried to pull herself together, but the shock of those lizard-creatures overrunning the bank was too great. After a moment, she started sobbing again, and he patted her hand sympathetically.

"I don't understand!" Claire said. "She went into the vault! She shot Mrs. Evans _inside the vault_! There was no way out!"

"There, now," the man said in a slight Irish accent. "Try to stay calm."

"I know it sounds mad, but I'm telling you: This woman had _powers_! She opened a portal, and all these... these horrible_ things_ came through!"

The man rolled his eyes, thinking of the compys that had escaped the bank and, for all he knew, were still running rampant throughout London. Through the bank's front window, he saw a couple of trucks pull up with the rarely-seen logo of the Anomaly Research Centre. A lot of soldiers poured out, under the direction of a tough-looking blonde and her slightly nerdy-looking sparring partner. The detective constable smiled.

"Well, I think that's all I need," he said. "You can tell my colleagues the rest. You can trust them; they're good people."

Claire Jackson scoffed. "I think I'm all out of faith in the goodness of people."

With a sympathetic sigh, the Detective Constable- who wasn't a policeman at all, but who did happen to be named Matt Anderson, and who had spent the last two years on the trail of the woman who terrorised the First Central Bank, at great cost to his personal life and peace of mind- rose from his chair and smiled at Claire.

"Yeah," Matt said, "I know the feeling."

Before the ARC personnel could get a look at him, Matt turned and hurried into the bank manager's office, where unseen by his former friends or by Helen Cutter's victims, he activated a certain time device.

_Emily wasn't with them,_ he thought._ Maybe she'll stay out of this. Maybe I can explain it all someday. Maybe we can still have our life together, somehow..._

_But I doubt it._

With that unhappy thought in his mind, Matt let the golden glow take him and disappeared.


	6. Act Five

**Primeval 7.1** ("Adaptive Radiation")

by qjay

___DISCLAIMER: Primeval was created by Adrian Hodges and Tim Haines. It does not belong to me. This is not-for-profit fan fiction, and no infringement is intended._

* * *

**Act Five**

After checking Becker's flat, then all the pubs near Becker's flat systematically, Connor located the ARC's former captain of security not even a kilometre from the ARC, in the pub where they used to gather after a long shift. He supposed he should have known Becker would return to the scene, but he'd hoped his friend wasn't brooding quite that deeply.

No such luck. When he found Becker, the other was slumped over a table in a dark corner of the pub, with at least four empty bottles of beer in front of him. He slurred his words slightly, though not as much as Connor would have, as he addressed a pretty waitress:

"Bring us another, luv. Bring us a proper drink!"

The waitress set about clearing the empty bottles. She glanced at Becker hopefully. "You know, my shift's nearly done. I thought we were gonna have fun, one of these nights."

"And we will," Becker assured her, "just as soon as I've remembered what 'fun' is..."

The waitress sighed- that date was never going to happen, and she knew it. She shrugged to Connor slightly as she returned to the bar to fulfil his friends order: _What can you do?_

That, precisely, was the question Connor had come to the pub to answer. He stood a little distance from the booth, waiting for Becker to notice him. When the other did not- or pretended not to- Connor cleared his throat.

Becker looked up blearily. "Bless me, look who it is. Sir Connor of the Temple. I was wondering when you'd turn up. Well, sit down, Sir Connor, sit down. We'll have a drink to Jerusalem, and to fallen comrades, not necessarily in that order."

He indicated a chair was a gesture as indeterminate as his speech. Connor sat down, rested his elbows on the table, and frowned.

"You don't look so good, mate."

Becker laughed. "I look better than you on the best day of your life!"

"That's true," Connor admitted, "but that's not so good."

Becker shook his head. The waitress returned with another bottle, and he pointed to Connor, indicating she should bring one for him. The poor woman shuffled off with a long-suffering sigh.

Becker took a long swig, then studied Connor with fish-eyed disapproval. "Old married man. And me without even my honour to keep me warm."

Connor looked at the tabletop. "It wasn't your fault."

"Oh, but the government feels otherwise. They said I'd betrayed my oath and my sovereign and a lot of important-sounding things. Who am I to quibble?"

"I've been through all your case files," Connor said. "You did a fine job at the ARC. Every bit as good as Danny or Matt."

He left Nick Cutter out of that assessment, because in Connor's opinion, nobody could run the ARC as well as Cutter. Certainly he and Abby didn't have a chance of living up to his memory! But that was another day's problem, and at present, he seemed to have said what Becker expected to hear.

"Damn right!" The other crooked a finger at him. "I ran that place the way it_ should_ have been run."

"So, are you gonna let them win?"

Becker shrugged. "The battle's over. Richard Wilson said I'd 'bred a military ethos in the ARC which led to the inevitable disaster.' That was in the official report."

"Richard Wilson's an idiot." Connor shrugged. "So what?"

Connor's drink arrived, but he wasn't very interested in it. When he looked back, he found Becker staring at him, more sober than he appeared at first.

"They brought you in, didn't they?"

Connor sipped his beer, to forestall an answer. But it couldn't be avoided: "Yeah. Just today. Lester's trying to rebuild the ARC."

"Lester," Becker pronounced, "can go to hell."

"Someday," Connor agreed, "but he's right about the ARC. There's a place for you, captain of security."

"You're mad! They'll never let me back in! I'm disgraced- it's in the papers!"

"So who's gonna tell them?" Connor leaned across the table and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Lester's promised to run interference. If I have to, I'll hack the payroll and give you a new name. Truthfully, mate, you could _use_ a new first name..."

He hoped the small joke might lighten Becker's mood. But he barely feigned a laugh before brooding harder than ever. "You think I'm gonna work for _you_?"

"Well, more for Abby," Connor said. "I'm just the science nerd."

That provoked a real laugh, though a rueful one. Becker took another drink. "Connor and Abby... the golden children of the ARC. Congratulations."

Something about the way he said that made Connor think it wasn't only business on Becker's mind. As tactfully as he could- and Connor wasn't good with tact- he ventured, "What about Becker and Jess?"

Becker waved the question away before he could get the whole thing out. "Leave it, all right?"

"Come on, mate. What'd you do?"

Becker glared at him. "Who says_ I_ did anything?"

"I do," Connor said. "Immutable law of the Universe. Old as time. It's always the bloke's fault. So what was it?"

"As a matter of fact..." Becker leaned across the table in a conscious approximation of Connor's dire seriousness, "I did something awful. Absolutely unforgivable. I asked her to marry me."

Connor sat back in his chair. "Yup. That'll do it."

He clinked his bottle against Becker's, and they sipped their drinks, united in the Universal lament of men who were devoted to the women in their lives, but remained men even so. It was the first hint of the old Becker Connor had seen, but he was a long way from getting through to his friend, much less securing his help. He hoped Abby was having an easier time with her part of the plan...

* * *

Inside Jess's silent, darkened flat, it was very easy to hear two sets of feet stomping up the stairs and down the corridor. If Abby wasn't mistaken, there would be one set of cute, pastel-coloured heels belonging to Jess, and one set of more practical footwear belonging to Emily Merchant...

"Well, come on!" said Jess's voice. "It's not much further!"

"Jess, all right, I'm coming!" Emily replied, sounding a bit put out. "I don't see what's so important that you had to drag me away from inventory at the shop to-"

The doors opened at the moment and Jess flicked on the lights, revealing Abby in the midst of several stacks of boxes nearly as tall as she was. Emily blinked at her a couple of times, then at the boxes, in dawning suspicion...

"Abby?"

"She's not the surprise, though," Jess said.

"Surprising enough," said Emily. "What are you doing?"

"Moving everything you own from your flat over here." Abby shrugged. "It took all evening, even with a team from the ARC helping."

She hadn't expected Emily to be pleased, exactly, as this stage of the game, but the shock and outright fear on the other woman's face was more than Abby had anticipated.

"Why would you do that?"

Abby took a deep breath, running over in her mind once more the script she'd been rehearsing all evening. "You shouldn't be alone all the time. I spoke to your landlady; she said you're barely scraping by. You can use a flatmate."

"That's not your decision!" Emily said.

"Look..." Abby said. "When Connor and I came back from the Cretaceous, living with Jess for a while was really good for us. We'd sort of... retreated into our shells, and she..."

Emily scoffed. "Who says I need to come out of my shell?"

Abby took a step toward her, apologetic. "You can't go on ignoring the world."

"Well, it's not my world, is it?"

"I know how you felt about Matt, but-"

"No, you don't!" Emily snapped.

Jess cleared her throat. "We're only trying to say-"

"You don't understand, either of you!"

Emily backed away from them as though they carried some disease. The disease of future knowledge, perhaps. She reached into the purse she carried and pulled out a yellowed sheet of paper and held it out to them. Abby thought she recognised Matt Anderson's precise handwriting.

"This is the letter he sent. I always keep it with me. Why? Because he said he'd be back. He gave me his word. One year from the day he disappeared. That was our date. That was the day Matt said he'd return and put everything right. And it's twelve months gone."

Abby looked at Jess, and they both stared at the letter in confusion, shaking their heads.

"This time stuff gets really complicated..." Abby said.

"I'm sure he hasn't forgotten!" Jess added.

Emily's face fell. "Well, then something has happened to him, and that's even worse."

Abby pointed at a name tag still affixed to Emily's collar, the one hint of modernity in her otherwise conservative dress. "And you think you're gonna find your answers working in a shop, is that right?"

"No." Emily shook her head and turned away. "I think the answer doesn't matter any more. There's nothing to be done, either way. It's too late."

"Emily-"

Their time-displaced friend took a step toward the door, then another, resolute. "I'm going home. I'll expect my things returned tomorrow."

Jess started to go after her- they'd anticipated a few false starts in this effort- but then Abby's mobile chimed.

"It's the ARC," she said.

Despite herself, Emily slowed her pace enough to listen. That was the first thing that gave Abby hope. But there was still a long way to go...

* * *

Back at the pub, Connor was doing everything he could to cajole Becker into a better mood. They'd swapped old stories about some of the crazier events of Danny Quinn's tenure at the ARC, they'd played a game of darts- Becker thoroughly destroyed Connor, but he was so used to losing to Abby that he barely minded- and now they were back at the table, Becker on his third round since his conversation with the waitress, while Connor had barely sipped his first. He was making a sale.

"Come on!" he said, a comradely arm around his friend's shoulders. "You know you'd miss it if you left. I did. You know you want back in!"

Becker pulled away. "It's not that simple, all right? You didn't know Leila Khan. She was quick. She was clever. She reminded me of Sarah, in that."

"Sarah again!" Connor sighed. "I guess it's all connected in your mind- everything that ever went wrong at the ARC, and all on you!"

"Maybe it is," Becker said. "All I know is, she saw something. She saw something I didn't. She warned me, and I ignored her-"

"Becker, it all happened in a split-second!"

"I've got to know," his friend said. "So if I come back..."

Connor blinked. "We're to 'if you come back' already? I didn't know I was doing that well."

"I have my own reasons to consider it." This time, Becker's conspiratorial tone was no parody. He whispered, "You said you could hack the records. Could you get everything on Green Hill?"

"You said you'd read the report..."

"Yeah. The official report, yeah." Becker hissed. "I need the _un_official data. I need to know what Wilson knows, and he'll never tell me. I need everything Leila could possibly have seen in that room. Can you do that for me?"

Connor made a face, wondering how Abby would react to the father of her child spending a few years in prison for hacking classified files. Jess could do it more easily... but of course, Becker would never endanger Jess. He'd protect her; Connor was expected to fend for himself. He wondered if that was some sort of perverse honour in Becker's world...

"I can probably get it," Connor admitted, though he wasn't certain it was the best thing for either of them. "I need time."

Becker took a long swallow of his latest drink. "All I've got is time. Time, and thirty-two ghosts circling my head."

"Yeah." Connor felt a pang of sympathy. "And I've got a world."

Becker frowned at him; as field leader at the ARC, he might have had access to the same things Lester knew about the other timeline. But he wouldn't know the details. He wouldn't know why things stood the way they did- why _exactly_. Whenever this subject came up at home, Connor spent all his time reassuring Abby. But the truth was, he felt fairly desperate to unburden himself.

"When Matt disappeared... it was because of something I did. A device I built. Abby had to change the world to set it right. She did it for me. Everyone who lived and everyone who died... all because I got too curious. And that haunts me. It does.

"Why do you think we stayed away so long?"

He didn't know what he expected from Becker- disapproval, annoyance. Perhaps even anger, since his tragedy might not have occurred if the world had not been changed. He didn't expect the other man to lift his bottle in a weary sort of salute before throwing back the last of it, as though acknowledgement of their mutual guilt had put them on an even footing.

"So many life and death decisions," Becker said. "The ARC's a poor place to find redemption."

"Yeah," Connor agreed, "but it might be the one place left for us."

Becker looked doubtful. For the first time all night, Connor thought he was listening. But just at the crucial moment- Connor's mobile rang. He groaned, afraid he'd lost the thread of his victory. But he held the phone to his ear.

"Abby? I think I've-" He blinked a few times, listened to her breathless report. "Anomaly? Where... the Jurassic? Oh, that sounds bad. How do you know it's...? All right. Okay. Be right there."

He turned off the phone as he stood and looked expectantly to Becker. The other man gave no clues as to whether he thought this particular call of any interest.

"Stegosaurus fighting an Allosaurus in front of Big Ben," Connor explained- which did sound really cool, from a certain point of view. "I've gotta go."

He took one step away from the table, then another, still waiting for Becker to stir. Their eyes locked in a stalemate. Finally, Becker pushed back his chair with a sigh.

"You're coming?"

"Class One anomaly, just in time," Becker grumbled. "How'd you arrange_ that_?"

"A lot of things are happening just in time today," Connor said. "It's like fate."

"Oh, shut up..."

Becker tossed a wad of bills on the table and hurried to catch up with Connor. The waitress blew him a kiss on the way out. Becker hardly seemed to notice.

A short time later, two trucks pulled up in front of one of London's most revered landmarks from opposite directions. To Connor's relief, Abby and Jess piled out of the second one with Emily in tow. His partner in sci-fi addiction smiled at him, but this was no time to catch up on the latest developments in _Doctor Who._ He pulled a couple of EMD rifles from the back of the truck and tossed one to Becker, who frowned at him, suspicious again.

"You knew to have these ready."

"Like I said; that kind of day." Connor did a double-take at the other man. "Any chance you're sober?"

"'Course not. How do you think I'm able to do this?"

"Right..." Connor sighed, and led the way toward Abby and the others.

The were facing as sticky a situation as Connor could remember facing. The stegosaurus, an armoured fortress with a wickedly-spiked tail, gave ground before the snapping jaws of its nemesis, centimetres away from damaging a landmark. Meanwhile, the Allosaurus was only slightly down the terror scale from the T-Rex it pre-dated, hovering somewhere near the Albertosaurus Connor had run afoul of in Canada: Bipedal carnivore, fast, relatively intelligent, its front limbs a bit more useful than those on its hulking successor...

The two creatures did battle in the street, directly in front of the landmark, where TV cameras and screaming tourists alike could hardly miss them. Over all other reasons, that meant they needed to be contained, and fast. The last thing the ARC needed right now was more bad publicity.

As the dinosaurs hissed and lunged at each other and constables all around the area tried desperately to keep order, the once and future ARC team reunited in the middle of the pavement.

"How do you want to handle this?" Emily asked.

"Well," Becker said, "we should-"

Jess cleared her throat. "I think she was talking to Abby."

Becker glared at her. "Thank you. I'd nearly forgotten my disgrace in the last ten seconds..."

Abby stepped between them before they could start an ill-timed row. "Shut it, both of you! Emily, get the police organised to keep away civilians. Jess, I need a location on the anomaly. Connor... remember the time in Leeds?"

Connor frowned. "I nearly died in Leeds!"

"I know." Abby had the decency to look apologetic. "But I can't ask the others to do what I won't ask my husband to do..."

"Fine," Connor sighed. "The time in Leeds."

Without bothering to explain to the others, he grabbed Becker by the arm and dragged him back toward their truck. As they ran, he heard Jess questioning Abby:

"I don't recall an anomaly in Leeds. What happened?"

"Oh, there was no anomaly," Abby said. "We took a trip last year, and nearly got in a..."

Then Connor and Becker were out of earshot, but the words she'd been aiming for were ..._bus accident_. A bus nearly side-swiped them on a busy afternoon, and by coincidence, Connor happened to have noticed a double-decker tour bus near the place where he'd parked, abandoned in the rush to get away from the creatures.

And there it was, large as life. Becker looked a question at Connor as they boarded, but didn't object as he found his way into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. Then, inspired by his gambit earlier in the day with the Gorgonopsid, he drove the bus straight into the trouble area- the Allosaurus ducked away, growling, and the Stegosaurus shattered several of their windows with its tail, but Connor had manoeuvred the bus in-between them, breaking up their fight.

_Hall monitor for a pair of giant reptiles,_ Connor thought with a sigh. _I really have missed this sort of thing..._

Meanwhile, he heard Abby on the pavement nearby, shouting to Jess and Emily: "That splits them up! Now, come on! We've got the carnivore!"

"Why do we get the carnivore?" Emily objected as they all started running.

Connor had to admit it wasn't very chivalrous of him. On the other hand, facing down a stegosaurus would be no holiday. Pound for pound, the armoured quadruped was as tough and nasty as any herbivore that ever lived- and right now, it made no distinction between their bus and its mortal enemy. Its spiked tail swung, again and again, smashing in one whole side of the vehicle and littering broken glass everywhere.

Connor grabbed his EMD rifle and positioned himself at one of the windows, with Becker beside him. They opened fire, to little effect.

"I hope your aim's improved," Becker snapped, "because if it's anything like an ankylosaur, those plates will stop EMD's!"

"So aim for the brain!" Connor said.

Becker shifted his aim and began pouring bolts of energy toward the creature's absurdly small head. Connor reached out and adjusted the rifle's barrel.

"Not that brain! The other brain!"

"There's another brain?!"

But that was the unfortunate secret of stegosaurus- it was crashingly stupid, the dinosaur with a brain the size of a walnut. So thick, in fact, it required a separate nerve cluster toward the back to control that deadly tail. Together, Connor and Becker devoted their EMD's to shorting out that nerve cluster.

The stegosaurus drew back its tail for another swipe- with the pounding the bus had already taken, Connor thought this one likely to crush its entire flank and them with it. But just as it began to swing its tail forward, the stegosaurus toppled over, its back legs betraying it. It bleated uselessly for a moment, then collapsed into unconsciousness as they refocused on brain number one...

Connor turned and high-fived Becker, and had the satisfaction of seeing his friend actually smile for a moment before the storm clouds crashed back in. It was a beginning, he supposed.

He felt a little better about his deal with Becker- both because it had borne fruit, but also because hacking into those files didn't sound so bad. Connor Temple was becoming curious about what had happened at Green Hill to rip apart the best people he knew so efficiently...

* * *

On the other side of the pavement, Abby had had own problems. While Emily tried desperately to protect the crowd, she and Jess ran out in front of the Allosaur, luring it down another street, away from the innocents around them as best they could. Unfortunately, the damned thing was a born predator, and its bone-crushing jaws kept getting closer...

_A predator._ Her mind suddenly flashed on something, the way Nick Cutter had dealt with the first future predator encountered by the team. He'd confused it with...

Abby turned to Jess. "Break all the windows! Hurry!"

As they ran, they smashed in every car and shop window they passed with the stocks of their EMD rifles. Of course, the sound of breaking glass, in itself, wasn't nearly as effective as it would have been on a future predator, with their ultra-sensitive hearing. But it unleashed another sound- a cacophony of car alarms and security systems, unlike anything the Allosaurus had ever heard.

Thinking quickly, Emily followed along and got the crowd into the act, everyone throwing rocks and bottles- anything they could get their hands on- to smash every window in the vicinity, so the shrieking alarms surrounded the Allosaurus on all sides, confusing and staggering it.

"Now!" Abby cried.

She turned and opened fire with her EMD, and Emily joined her from the opposite side. At their highest setting, the weapons had been calibrated to take down a T-Rex; deprived of the ability to dodge, its nasty, troublesome little cousin hardly stood a chance. The Allosaurus collapsed to the pavement at their feet, causing Jess to jump backward with a squawk. Abby lowered her EMD and dared to breathe, pleased to have come through her first day as an authority figure in one piece.

Disgusted by the creature or not, Jess was a professional. After talking on coms for a moment, she said, "Abby, the anomaly's on the next street but one. I've got backup headed there now."

"Good work," Abby said. Then she lifted her eyes to the aftermath- broken windows, blaring alarms, a combat zone of the war against the dinosaurs, not far removed from one of the most famous places in the world. Richard Wilson was not going to like this. Nor, if she didn't miss her guess, was a certain irascible departmental director. "Now... whom shall I delegate to tell Lester about the mess?"

Jess shrugged; some things couldn't be helped. Perhaps this mission- a messy, ugly victory in which keeping people alive was the best you could hope- was the best possible metaphor for working at the ARC, and an all-too-fitting way to welcome Abby back.

But as she, Jess, and Emily trudged back toward their team-mates, the crowd Emily had been holding back swarmed around them. Abby feared there might be trouble, considering the ARC's reputation these days. Then she heard something she hadn't expected- hadn't heard since that day more than two earlier when Connor rode the sauropod. One person clapped her hands together- then another, and another. The people of London were applauding for the warriors of the ARC, almost as if to apologise for all their protectors had gone through in their defence, and to commemorate the fallen. In that moment, Abby thought all of it- Green Hill, Becker, Claudia/Jenny, her own marriage and family- it was all going to be okay.

A moment later, she thought how it could all go horribly wrong. But Abby held onto the first moment, the optimistic one. She didn't have many like it, so it would have to last a while...

* * *

Hours later, at a small but comfortable home in suburban Upminster, Abby turned her key in the lock while Connor carried in their daughter Nicole, the pudgy, wide-eyed centre of their world these past few months. As he went, Connor kept up a running dialogue with the baby, as he often did:

"Here we are, darlin'. Home at last. Your Gran didn't scar you too badly, did she? Nah! You're tough, like your mum. You've even got a little bit of blonde fuzz atop your head..."

He tousled the baby's hair affectionately, while Abby stood back and smiled. Quiet moments like these were likely to become all too rare for them, and they both knew it.

As she closed the door, Abby said, "I think you have better talks with her than with me."

"Well, we're on the same level," Connor grinned. "Come on, sweetheart. Time for sleep..."

He carried Nicole in through the hall to the nursery, while Abby rummaged about in the kitchen to put the kettle on. While she did, she went back to one of her favourite themes from the ride home:

"Look, about telling Becker and Jess-"

"No details!" Connor said; he was very conscious that he'd bent that rule today, but it was the only thing that had worked. He didn't intend to bend it further, for the same sensible reasons he'd given Abby, and now gave again. "It can't help anything; all it can do is put everyone in danger!"

"But he literally died to save her in the other world! If Jess knew that- if he knew what it felt like to lose her- they wouldn't have fallen out! I know it!"

"Abby..." Connor stopped in the hallway and sighed, his head resting against the wall. He felt utterly exhausted. "Do I annoy you?"

"As much today as the day we met," she said, in a supportive tone of voice. "You never need worry about that."

"Even though we've risk our lives for each other? Ever think of leaving me?"

Abby hesitated; she probably thought he was being insecure. Connor had to admit, the question hurt, but he was actually going somewhere with it...

"Sometimes," she said. "Not seriously. Just when you're being especially... Connor. What's your point?"

"That's my point! Sometimes it works, sometimes not! People... fight! They argue, even when they mean the world to each other. You can't guilt them into staying together. Just leave it."

A silence fell, which Connor soon realised was the unlikely sound of his having won an argument. Abby appeared at the end of the hallway, frowning at him.

"When did you become clever?"

"Day I married you, love..." Connor laughed and carried the baby into her nursery. He got as far as the door, and froze. "Abby. Abby, come in here. Quick!"

There was something on the table beside the baby's cot. A writhing, squid-like creature in a hard, spiral shell. An ammonite- prehistoric mollusc. Harmless enough, except they'd died out with the dinosaurs, which meant whoever had found a living one had been through an anomaly. And in this case, it meant something more. Connor remembered a story about a live ammonite, which only a few people could possibly know...

Just in case he'd missed the point, there was a note beneath the creature, a piece of paper on which was scrawled, in large letters, the word "SOON."

Connor clutched Nicole to him; Abby ran past them both to the window and threw open the shade. Someone stood in the shadows outside, a woman's shape, unhappily familiar, but as Connor moved toward the window, the woman vanished into the night...

Connor turned to Abby, who was staring through the window. The horror on her face said it all.

It was exactly as bad as he feared.

**THE END**

___...of this story. Next up: Giant lizards! Marsupial lions! Carnivorous kangaroos? The world's first conference of anomaly-hunters is overrun by prehistoric fauna from Down Under! Danny Quinn and New World's Evan Cross guest-star in..._

_**Primeval 7.2: The League of Anomalous Gentlefolk**_

___Coming soon!_


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